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ELLA WHEELER 



DROPS OF WATER: 



A SELECTION OF 



TEMPEEANCE POEMS & EECITATIONS. 



BY 



ELLA WHEELER, U&r« 

Of Wisconsin , United States. 



JOHN KEMPSTER & CO., 
k 10, ST. BRIDE'S AVENUE, FLEET STREET, E.C. 






51 FT 

{gee, j^MEf. 

\ JULY 2 ., 






CS, 



BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 



Ella Wheeler, G.W.V.T., Wisconsin, was born November 5th, 
1850, in Rock County, Wis., U.S.A. Her parents were in humble 
but comfortable circumstances, and Ella, their youngest child, was 
privileged with exceptional opportunities to develop the talent which, 
from her earliest years, promised to raise her to the platform of the 
teachers and comforters of humanity. 

When but an infant, before she could write, she " printed, " upon 
what material came to hand, her little verse stories and fairy romances. 
At the age of sixteen she began to write for the press, and regularly 
from that time until now her pen has been so employed. 

Soon after her first piece appeared in the New York Mercury, she 
ventured to publish a "poem," with was cruelly and heartlessly dealt 
with, in the name of criticism, by a reviewing editor, who concluded his 
merciless attack upon the young authoress by saying that, "if he had 
succeeded in preventing her from ever attempting another line of poetry, 
he should feel that he had done the world a service." Happily, how- 
ever, Ella was not so completely crushed by unfair criticism as her 
censor hoped, and though only sixteen, a romantic, unsophisticated 
country girl, she redoubled her efforts, and in a short time afterwards" 
was one of the staff of contributors to Frank Leslie's journal and 
several other leading journals of the States. Some months later she 



was placed upon Harper's journal, and became able to support herself, 
as she says, by her literary labours. 

The practical lessons of " total abstinence " from all intoxicating 
drinks were wisely instilled into her mind and habits from infancy. Her 
parents — and especially her mother, who was a most radical and earnest 
Temperance worker — were her teachers and examples. Naturally catch- 
ing her mother's inspiration, Ella has devoted herself with much 
enthusiasm and zeal to the cause of Temperance. By pen and voice, 
and work of other kinds, she seeks to promote the movement. Poems, 
songs, recitations, &c. , she has written in great number. 

A selection of these has been collected into a volume, and issued by 
the leading Temperance publishers in America — the National Temper- 
ance Society and Publication House of New York. The work has 
already obtained a popularity which has reached our own shores, many 
of her pieces having been reproduced in various Temperance periodicals 
in all parts of the kingdom. 

The present Copyright volume is a revised edition of the American 
work, published by arrangement with the authoress, and containing 
additional later poems communicated by herself. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

A Glass of Wine 3" 

Alcohol's Requiem upon Prof. P. F. K. . . . -33 

A Mother's Wail 20 

Arise ........... 97 

A Sign-board .......... 6 

A Tumbler of Claret 52 

A Word of Warning 80 

Breakers ........... 106 

Don't Drink I 

Don't Tease the Lion . . ... . . . 108 

Drop In . . . . . . . . . . .112 

" Give Us a Call ! " 109 

God's Work .......... 142 

Good Templar's Song ........ 103 

Greeting Poem 149 

Haunted 93 

If 105 

If I were Sent ......... . 139 

In Memoriam . . . . . . . . 91 

In the Cup .......... 148 

In the Night 66 

Is It Best? 117 

Is It Well ? . . . 62 

Master and Servant . . . . . . . . .13 

"M. T. Bass & Co. 's Bitter-beer" 34 

National Anniversary Ode . . . . . . ; .129 

New Year .118 

Older than You -87 

" One was Taken, and One was Left " . . . . -74 
One Woman's Memory ........ 88 



IV. 

PAGE 
Origin of the Liquor Dealer ....... 63 

Out of the Depths ......... 44 

Some Objections to the Good Templars' Order Replied to . .98 

Slain 95 

Temperance Alphabet ........ 47 

Thanksgiving .......... 145 

The " Coming Men " 78 

The Temperance Harvest ........ 41 

The Test 82 

The Black Charger 16 

The Brewer's Dog ......... 144 

The Cry of the People 134 

The Dirge of the Winds . . . . . . . 71 

The Lodge-room . . . . . . . . .125 

The Mother's Prayer 37 

Theory and Practice . . . . . . . . .126 

There's Work to be Done 123 

The Temperance Army ........ 84 

The Two Armies . . . . . . . 56 

The Two Glasses 59 

The Two Ships .......... 9 

Tickets to Sell 46 

Were I Man Grown ......... 77 

What had He Done ? 22 

What I have Seen — Number I. . . . . . .25 

„ ' » II 26 

„ >, » „ HI ■ . .28 

IV 29 

»» >> - >> ?> *. ...... 31 

What we Want 55 

Where are the Temperance People ? , . . . . 131 

" Where is thy Brother ? " 18 

Wild Oats -4 

Words from the Wind 5 1 

Work for Woman 120 



Drops of Water. 



DON'T DRINK. 

DON'T drink, boys, don't ! 
There is nothing of happiness, pleasure, or cheer, 
In brandy, in whisky, in rum, ale, or beer. 
If they cheer you when drunk, you are certain to pay 
In headaches and crossness the following day. 
Don't drink, boys, don't ! 

Boys, let it alone ! 
Turn your back on your deadliest enemy — Drink ! 
An assassin disguised ; nor for one moment think, 
As some rashly say, that true women admire 
The man who can boast that he's playing with fire. 

Boys, let it alone ! 

B 



2 Drops of Water. 

No, boys, don't drink ! 
If the habit's begun, stop now ! stop to-day ! 
Ere the spirit of thirst leads you on and away 
Into vice, shame, and drunkenness. This is a goal, 
Where the spirit of thirst leads the slave of the bowl. 

No, boys, do?it drink ! 

Boys, touch not, nor taste ! 
Don't think you can stop at the social " First Glass." 
Too many have boasted that power, alas ! 
And found they were slaves to this seeming good friend, 
And have grown into drunkards and knaves in the end. 

Boys, touch not, nor taste ! 

Don't drink, boys, Don't ! 
If the loafers and idlers scoff, never heed : 
True men and true women will wish you " God-speed." 
There is nothing of purity, pleasure, or cheer 
To be gotten from whisky, wine, brandy, or beer. 

Don't drink, boys, Don't ! 



A Glass of Wine. 



A GLASS OF WINE. 

WHAT'S in a glass of wine ? " 
There, set the glass where I can look within. 
Now listen to me, friend, and IT1 begin 

And tell you what I see — 
What I behold with my far-reaching eyes, 

And what I know to be 
Below the laughing bubbles that arise 

Within this glass of wine. 
There is a little spirit, night and day, 
That cries one word, for ever and alway : 

That single word is " More ! " 
And whoso drinks a glass of wine, drinks him : 
You fill the goblet full unto the brim, 

And strive to silence him. 

Glass after glass you drain to quench his thirst, 
Each glass contains a spirit like the first ; 
And all their voices cry 



Drops of Water. 

Until they shriek and clamour, howl and rave, 

And shout " More ! " noisily, 
Till welcome death prepares the drunkard's grave, 

And stills the imps that rave. 

That see I in the wine : 
And tears so many that I cannot guess ; 
And all these drops are labelled with " Distress." 

I know you cannot see. 
And at the bottom are the dregs of shame : 

Oh ! it is plain to me. 
And there are woes too terrible to name : 

Now drink your glass of wine. 



WILD OATS. 

I SAW a fair youth, with a brow broad and white, 
And an eye that was beaming with intellect's light : 
And his face seemed to glow with the wealth of his mind ; 
And I said, " He will grace and ennoble mankind : 
He is Nature's own king." 



Wild Oats. 5 

We met yet again. I saw the youth stand 
With a bowl that was flowing and red in his hand ; 
And he filled it again, and again did he quaff, 
And his friends gathered round him, and said with a laugh, 
" He is sowing his oats." 

Ah ! his eye was too bright, and his cheek was too red, 
And I gazed on the youth with a feeling of dread ; 
And again as he laughingly lifted the bowl, 
I turned from the scene with a shuddering soul : 
It was terrible seed ! 

We met but once more. I found in the street 
A corpse half-enveloped in mud and in sleet : 
A foul, bloated thing ; but I saw in the face 
A something that told of its boyhood's grace : 
He had reaped the dire crop. 

O youths who are sowing wild oats ! do you know 
That the terrible seed you are planting will grow ? 
Have you thought how your God will require some day 
An account of the life you are throwing away ? 

Have you thought, O rash youth ? 



5 Drops of Water. 

It will soon be too late, there is no time to waste ; 
Then throw down the cup ! do not touch, do not taste ! 
It is filled with destruction and sorrow and pain : 
Throw it down ! throw it down ! do not lift it again : 
It will soon be too late ! 



A SIGN-BOARD. 

I WILL paint you a sign, rumseller, 
And hang it above your door ; 
A truer and better sign-board 
Than ever you had before. 
I will paint with the skill of a master, 

And many shall pause to see 
This wonderful piece of painting, 
So like the reality. 

I will paint yourself, rumseller, 

As you wait for that fair young boy, 

Just in the morn of manhood, 
A mother's pride and joy. 



A Sign-Board. 

He has no thought of stopping, 
But you greet him with a smile, 

And you seem so blithe and friendly 
That he pauses to chat awhile. 

I will paint you again, rumseller, 

I will paint you as you stand 
With a foaming glass of liquor, 

Holding in either hand. 
He wavers, but you urge him : 

" Drink ! pledge me just this one ! " 
And he lifts the glass and drains it, 

And the hellish work is done. 

And next I will paint a drunkard : 

Only a year has flown, 
But into this loathsome creature 

The fair young boy has grown. 
The work was quick and rapid : 

I will paint him as he lies, 
In a torpid, drunken slumber, 

Under the winter skies. 



Drops of Water. 

I will paint the form of the mother, 

As she kneels at her darling's side- 
Her beautiful boy, that was dearer 

Than all of the world beside. 
I will paint the shape of a coffin 

Labelled with one word, " Lost." 
I will paint all this, rumseller, 

And paint it free of cost. 

The sin and the shame and sorrow, 

The crime and sin and woe, 
That is born there in your rumshop, 

No hand can paint, you know ■ 
But I'll paint you a sign, rumseller, 

And many shall pause to view 
This wonderful swinging sign-board, 

So terribly, fearfully true. 



The Two Ships. 



THE TWO SHIPS. 

ON the sea of life they floated, 
Brothers twain in manhood's pride, 
And the good ship " Temperance " bore them 

Safely o'er the stormy tide. 
Not a thought of rock or breaker, 

Not a fear of wreck had they, 
For their ship was strong and steady- 
Faithful, trusty, night and day. 

So they floated on together, 

Full of youth's elastic joy, 
Floated till the air was startled 

With the cry of " Boat ahoy ! " 
And they saw a craft beside them, 

Dainty, jaunty, frail, and fair, 
And its banner showed a wine-glass 

Painted as its symbol there. 

And again the stranger shouted, 
" Boat ahoy ! a friend is near ! 



io Drops of Water. 

Captain of yon gallant vessel, 
Do you see, and do you hear ? 

We're the ' Social Glass/ my hearties, 
And a jolly, jovial crew. 

We are bound for Pleasure Valley, 
And we would be friends with you." 

But the brothers stood in silence, 

Though they could not help but hear, 
And the elder's heart was throbbing 

With a vague and chilling fear. 
And again the stranger pleaded, 

u Come aboard the ' Social Glass ! ' 
We will entertain you warmly, 

And the time will quickly pass/"' 

Still the elder stood unheeding, 

Still he did not move nor turn, 
And his mien was cold and haughty, 

And his face was dark and stern. 
But the younger whispered to him, 

" Surely, we are churls to stand 
In this sullen, boorish silence ; 

Let us offer friendship's hand. 



The Two Ships. 1 1 

See ! they beckon us to join them ! 

Beckon us with word and smile ; 
I will not refuse them longer, 

I will join them for a while. " 
Then the " Social Glass " rowed nearer, 

And he joined the jovial throng, 
And they gathered round about him, 

Greeting him with laugh and song. 

Then the elder cried in anguish, 

Loud and wild his accents fell : 
" Know you not, O brother, brother ! 

Yonder ship is bound for hell ? 
See the clouds that hover o'er you ; 

And the day is growing dark : 
There is ruin and destruction 

For each soul upon that bark. 

" Oh ! come back ! Why did you leave me ! 

It is certain death to stay, 
Do not loiter ! do not linger ! 

Brother, brother, come away ! * ; 



12 Drops of Water. 

But the wild winds only answered 

To his agonising plea ■ 
And the " Social Glass " went bounding 

Lightly o'er the troubled sea. 

He could hear their shouts of laughter, 

He could see their goblets shine, 
He could see his darling brother 

With his lips all red with wine. 
Ah ! a seething, boiling maelstrom 

Lay within their very track, 
And he warned them of their danger, 

And he strove to turn them back. 

But they did not, would not heed him : 

On they went in wildest glee ! 
Nearer, nearer to the whirlpool, 

Nearer to the boiling sea, 
Till the " Social Glass " was buried 

In the seething, rushing wave, 
And each mad and reckless voyager 

Found a dark and awful grave. 



Master and Servant. 13 

And the lonely brother floated 

Calmly o'er the stormy tide, 
For the good ship " Temperance " bore him 

Safely o'er the waters wide. 
And he never left her shelter 

Till the voyage of life was o'er, 
And he anchored where the angels 

Waited for him on the shore. 

MASTER AND SERVANT. 

THE devil to Bacchus said, one day, 
In a scowling, growling, petulant way, 

As he came from earth to hell : 
" There's a soul above that I cannot move, 

And I've struggled long and well ; 
He's a manly youth, with an eye of truth, 

A fellow of matchless grace ; 
And he looks me through with his eye of blue 

Till I cower before his face. 
The very power and strength of heaven 
To this young, fearless soul was given ; 



14 Drops of Water. 

For I've never an art that can reach his heart, 

And I cannot snare his feet : 
I have wasted days in devising ways, 

And now must cry ' Defeat !' " 
And the devil scowled, and grumbled, and growled, 

And beat about with his cane, 
Till the demons fled over the burning waste 
Out of his reach in hurrying haste, 

Howling aloud in pain. 

Bacchus laughed as he stooped and quaffed 

A burning bumper of wine : 
" Why, master," said he, " you soon shall see 

The fellow down at your shrine ; 
Long ago, if you'd let me know, 

We'd had him in our ranks. 
And now, adieu ! while I work for you ; 

Don't hurry about your thanks ! 
I'm going above ; you know they love 

The sight of my glowing face. 
They call me a god ! ho ! ho ! how odd ! 

With this for my dwelling-place." 



Master and Servant. 15 

A youth with a dower of manly grace, 
A maid with the morning in her face, 
And she filleth a goblet full to the brim, 
And giveth the bubbling draught to him. 
" Drink ! " she says, and the goblet sways 

And shimmers under his eyes. 
He tries to speak, but the tongue is weak, 

And the words sink into sighs ; 
For the maid is fair, and she holds him there 

With a spell that he cannot flee : 
" Drink ! " and she sips with her ruby lips — 

" Drink but a draught with me." 
And the lovers quaffed, while the demons laughed, 

And Bacchus laughed loud and long. ■ 
" Ho ! ho ! " cried he, " what a victory ! 

Ho ! ho ! for the soul so strong 
That my master was beat, and cried ' Defeat V 
But wine is a tempter, and love is sweet. " 

Bacchus went back o'er the fiery track 

Into the land below ; 
And the devil said, " Well, what have you to tell 

Of the thing I want to know?" 



1 6 Drops of Water. 

And Bacchus said he, " Why, look and see ! 

There is your strong, brave youth 
Reeling along, with a drunken song 

Staining those lips of truth. 
My work is done ! You must go on 

And finish the job I started ; 
And as long as I stay in your service, pray, 

Don't ever be down-hearted. " 



THE BLACK CHARGER. 

THERE'S a terrible steed that rests not night nor day, 
But onward and onward, for ever away, 
Through hamlet, through village, through country, through 

town, 
Is heard the dread thud of his hoofs beating down ; 
Is seen the fierce eye, is felt the hot breath ; 
And before it, behind it, spreads ruin and death : 
By castle, by cottage, by hut and by hall, 
Still faster and fiercer he passes them all. 
He breathes on the youth with the face of the morn, 
He leaves him a mark for the finger of scorn ; 



The Black Charger. 17 

He cries, " Mount and ride ! I will bear you away 

To the fair fields of pleasure. Come, mount me, I say !" 

And, alas for the youth ! he is borne like the wind, 

And he leaveth his manhood, his virtue behind ; 

And faster, still faster, he speeds down the track, 

Where many shall follow, and few shall come back. 

He breathes on the heart which is stricken with grief : 

" Come, mount me ! and fly to the plains of relief ; 

I will bear you away to the fair fields Elysian, 

Where your sorrows shall seem but a long- vanished vision. 

With the future before you, forgetting the past, 

You shall revel in pleasure, rejoicing at last." 

Ah ! whoso shall mount shall ride to his doom : 

Shall be sunk in the marshes of terror and gloom. 

He breathes on the king, and he breathes on the slave ; 
On the young and the old, from the crib to the grave ; 
On masterly minds, and they wither away 
As the flower droops and dies 'neath a torrid sun's ray ; 
On beautiful souls that are pure as the light, 
And they shrivel, polluted with mildew and blight. 
The master, the servant, the high and the low, 
He bears them <?//down to the regions of woe. 

C 



[ 8 Drops of Water. 

Ho ! ho ! Temperance clan ! rest ye not night or day : 
Watch, watch for the steed! starve him down! block 

his way! 
Throw him into the dust ! seize his long, flowing mane ! 
Bind his terrible limbs till he quivers in pain. 
Stab him through to the heart ! beat him down till he lies 
Stark and stir! on the earth — beat him down till he dies 1 
Till never by castle, by cottage, by hall, 
Shall again pass the black-hearted steed, Alcohol ! 



" WHERE IS THY BROTHER?" 

OH ! when I think in what a thorny way 
The feet of men must ever walk and stray, 
I do not wonder that so many fall, 
But wonder more that any stand at all. 

I look around me, and on every hand 
I see the palaces of destruction stand 
Like whited sepulchres : some seem to be 
All white and clean, and pure as purity. 



" Where is thy Brother?" 19 

I see a path of flowers, blooming fair, 
But, oh ! a dark abyss is hidden there. 
I see a serpent lurking in the grass 
Where manly feet will all unheeding pass. 

I see the maiden with the beaming eye, 

She lightly laughs and lifts the wine-glass high, 

And says the while her red lips sip and taste, 

" A % for temperance ; wine's too good to waste." 

It is so hard for men to walk within 
The narrow path that leads away from sin ; 
So hard to keep unto the better way, 
Even with woman's hand to guide alway ; 

But when she scorns and jeers the noble strife, 
And turns them from the higher, better life, 
And leads them downward with her own fair hand, 
Oh ! can we wonder that they do not stand ? 

Alas ! my sisters, I can only pray, 

May God forgive you on the judgment-day : 

" Where is thy brother, where ? " the Master saith, — 

And you, like Cain, must answer for his death. 



20 Drops of Water. 

A MOTHER'S WAIL. 

'HP* HE sweet young Spring walks over the earth, 

-*• It flushes and glows on moor and lea ; 
The birds are singing in careless mirth, 

The brook flows cheerily on to the sea ; 
And I know that the flowers are blooming now 
Over my beautiful darling's brow : 
Blooming and blowing in perfume now 
Over my poor lost darling's brow. 

The breath of the passionate Summer turns 
The green of the hills to a deeper dye ; 

The wind from the south land blows and burns, 
The sun grows red in the brazen sky ; 

And I know that the long, dank grasses wave 

Over my beautiful darling's grave : 

Rise and fall, and lift and wave 

Over my darling's narrow grave. 

The days flow on, and the summer dies, 
And glorious Autumn takes the crown ; 

And toward the south the robin flies, 

And the green of the hills grows dull and brown ; 



A Mother's Wail. 21 

And the leaves, all purple, and gold, and red, 
Drift over my precious darling's bed : 
Drift and flutter, all gold and red, 
Over my darling's lowly bed. 

The Winter comes with its chilling snows, 

And wraps the world in a spotless shroud ; 
And cold from the north the wild wind blows, 

And the tempest rages fierce and loud \ 
It shrieks, and sobs, and sighs, and weeps 
Over the mound where my darling sleeps : 
In pity, it sobs, and sighs, and weeps 
Over the mound where my lost one sleeps. 

He was so young, and fair, and brave : 

The pride of my bosom — my heart's best joy ; 
And he lieth now in a drunkard's grave ; 

My beautiful darling, my only boy : 
But down in my heart of hearts, I know 
He has gone w T here his tempters never can go : 
To heaven his soul has gone, I know, 
Where the soul of his tempters never can go. 



22 Drops of Water. 

They charmed him into their licensed hell, 

They gave him rum, and his eye grew wild ; 
And lower and lower down he fell, 

Till they made a fiend of my precious child : 
May the curses of God fall on the soul 
Who gave my darling the poison bowl ! 
Ay, curses dark and deep on the soul 
Who tempted my darling to lift the bowl ! 



WHAT HAD HE DONE? 

I SAW the farmer, when the day was done, 
And the proud sun had sought his crimson bed, 
And the mild stars came forward one by one — 
I saw the sturdy farmer, and I said : 
" What have you done to-day, 
O farmer ! say ? " 

" Oh ! I have sown the wheat in yonder field, 
And pruned my orchard to increase its yield, 
And turned the furrow for a patch of corn : 
This have I done, with other things, since morn." 



What Had He Done ? 23 

I saw the blacksmith in his smithy door, 

When day had vanished and the west grew red, 
And all the busy noise and strife were o'er — 
I saw the kingly blacksmith, and I said : 
" What have you done to-day, 
O blacksmith ! say ? " 

" Oh ! I have made two ploughshares all complete, 
And nailed the shoes on many horses' feet ; 
And — O my friend ! I cannot tell you half, " 
The man of muscle answered, with a laugh. 

I saw the miller, when the day had gone, 

And all the sunlight from the hills had fled, 
And tender shadows crept across the lawn — 
I saw the trusty miller, and I said : 
" What have you done to-day, 
O miller, gray ? " 

" Oh ! I have watched my mill from morn to night, 
And never saw yon flour so snowy white ; 
And many are the mouths to-day IVe fed, 
I ween," the merry miller laughed and said. 



24 Drops of Water. 

I saw another, when the night grew nigh, 

And turned each daily toiler from his task, 
When gold and crimson banners decked the sky — 
I saw another, and I paused to ask : 
" What have you done to-day, 
Rumseller, say ? " 

But the rumseller turned with dropping head, 
And not a single word in answer said. 
What had he done ? His work he knew full well 
Was plunging human souls in deepest hell. 

Alas ! rumseller, on that awful day, 

W 7 hen death shall call you, and your race is run, 
How can you answer ? What can you hope to say ? 
When God shall ask you, " What have you done ? ; 
How can you meet the eye 
Of the Most High ? 

When night approaches and the day grows late, 
Think you to find the way to heaven's gate ? 
Think you to dwell with souls of righteous men ? 
Think you to enter in ? If not, what then ? 



What I Have Seen. 25 



WHAT I HAVE SEEN. 

NUMBER I. 

I SAW a mother give wine to her boy — 
The rain-drops fall and fall : 
The pride of his parents, a household joy, 
A mother's blessing, her all. 

I saw the cheek of the youth grow red — 

The rain falls over the lea : 
The light of his eye shone like jewels, they said 

It spoke of ruin to me. 

I saw the youth drink again and again — 

The rain falls heavy and fast : 
I saw the mother's brow furrowed with pain, — 

She was reaping her harvest at last. 

I saw the youth go staggering by — 

The rain-drops beat and beat : 
Dulled was the light of his beautiful eye ; 

I saw him fall in the street. 



26 Drops of Water. 

I heard the rabble cry, " Shame ! oh, shame ! " 

The rain-drops sob and sob : 
I heard the drunkard's once-honoured name 

Shouted aloud by the mob. 

I saw the youth carried home to his door — 

The rain-drops sob and sigh : 
Saw the friends shun him, who sought him before, 

Saw him sink lower, and die. 

I saw the stone that bore only his name — 

The rain-drops mutter and rave : 
I saw the mother with sorrow and shame 

Bowed to the brink of the grave. 



WHAT I HAVE SEEN. 

NUMBER II. 

I SAW a maid with her chivalrous lover : 
He was both tender and true ; 
He kissed her lips, vowing over and over, 
'* Darling, I worship you." 



What I Have Seen. 2J 

Sing, sing, bird of the spring, 

Tell of the flowers the summer will bring. 

I saw the maiden, sweet, loving, confiding, 

Smile when he whispered " Mine," 
Saw her lips meet his with no word of chiding, 

Though his breath fumed with wine. 
Wail, wail, Nightingale, 
Sing of a mourner bowed and pale. 

I saw the lover and maid at the altar, 

Bound by the bands divine ; 
Heard the responses — they fail not nor falter — 

Saw the guests pledge in wine. 
Howl, howl, ominous Owl, 
Shriek of the terrible tempest's scowl. 

I saw the drunkard's wife weeping in anguish, 

Saw her struck down by a blow ; 
I saw the husband in prison-cells languish— ' 

Thus ends the tale of woe. 
Shriek, shriek, O Raven ! speak 
Of the terrible midnight, dark and bleak. 



28 Drops of Water. 

WHAT I HAVE SEEN. 

NUMBER III. 

SAW two youths : both were fair in the face, 
-^ They had set out foot to foot in life's race ; 
But one said to the other, " I say now, my brother, 

You are going a little too slow ; 
The world will look on, and say, ' See Josy John/ 

We must put on more style, now, you know." 

So he tipped a plug hat on one side of his pate, 
And strutted along with a Jockey Club gait ; 
And he carried a cane, and said, " It is plain, 

I am too fine a fellow to toil. 
I can gamble and bet, and a good living get ; 

But my hands are too pretty to soil. 

" My friend in the rear, you are slow, I am fast ; 
I am up with the times — 1 am first, you are last. 
So I guess I will leave you — aw, if it won't grieve you ; 

I'll wait for you when I get through ; 
Or, when up on the hill, I'll remem-bah you still, 

And — aw, mayhap I'll come and help you." 



What I Have Seen. 29 

I saw him pass on with a strut through the street ; 

Saw him stopped by a score of " good boys " for a treat, 

While the calm " Josy John " went quietly on, 

And kept his lips free from the bowl ; 
Worked at whatever came, turned from sin and from shame, 

And wrote " Purity/' " Truth," in his soul. 

I saw two men : one was fair to behold ; 

The other, a drunken sot, bloated and bold. 

One stood on the mountain and drank of God's fountain, 

The other drank beer in the street. 
Yet both started alike ; but one made a " strike," 

Which ended, you see, in defeat. 



WHAT I HAVE SEEN. 

NUMBER IV. 

T SAW a youth, one of God's favoured few, 
-*- Crowned with beauty, and talents, and health ; 
He had climbed the steep pathway, and cut his way 
through 
To the summit of glory and wealth. 



30 Drops of Water. 

The day is breaking, hearts are waking, 

Refreshed for the field of labour : 
Arise, arise, like the king of the skies, 

With a greeting for friend and neighbour. 

He had toiled hard for the honours he'd won, 

He had climbed over high rocks, forded streams ; 
Braved the bleak winter snow, the hot summer sun, - 

He was reaching the goal of his dreams. 
The day hangs around us, the sun hath bound us 

With fetters silken and yellow : 
Flow, flow away, fleeting day, 

Golden-hearted and mellow. 

I saw the youth lift a mug to his mouth, 

Drink the last drop of the fearful fast glass ! 
Ah ! his veins thrill in a fierce, scorching drouth ; 

He fills it again, again drinks it ! alas ! 
The day is dying, hearts are sighing, 

Crushed with a weight of sorrow : 
Sleep, oh ! sleep, in a slumber deep, 

And wait for a bright to-morrow. 



What I Have Seen, 31 

I saw him low in the dust at my feet, 

Gone beauty, health, wealth, strength, talents, all ; 
From the summit of Fame to the slime of the street, 

He had bartered his soul for the fiend Alcohol. 
The night hangs o'er us, the wind's wild chorus 

Shrieks like a demons' revel : 
Weep, sob, weep, for the fog is deep, 

And the world is sold to the devil. 



WHAT I HAVE SEEN. 



NUMBER V. 



I SAW a Christian, a temperance man, 
Casting his ballot one day at the polls : 
One who believes he does what he can 

Toward the reclaiming and saving of souls. 
And may be he does — ~may be he does ! 
I don't say he does?i't, but may be he does ! 



32 Drops of Water. 

I saw his candidate sipping his beer, 

Wiping his moustache and lapping his jaws ; 
And I said to myself, " It's decidedly queer, 

If this is the man that should help make our laws." 
But may be he is — may be he is ! 
I won't say it outright, but may be he is ! 



I saw an old drunkard fall in the street : 

I saw my Christian man mournfully pass, 
And mournfully say to the sot at his feet : 

" I have done what I could for such wrecks, but, 
alas!" 
Well, may be he had — may be he had ! 
I don't say he hadn't, but may be he had ! 

I know a party that's forming to-day, 

Made out of men that are loyal and brave : 
They will sweep liquor taxes and tariffs away, 

For they never will vote for a drinking old knave. 
You see if they do ! you see if they do ! 
I don't say I know, but you see if they do ! 



AkohoTs Requiem upon Prof. P. F. K. 33 
ALCOHOL'S REQUIEM UPON PROF. P. F. K., 

A GIFTED MAN, WHO DIED A VICTIM TO STRONG DRINK. 

HO ! ho ! Father Death ! I have won you another ! 
Another grand soul I have ruined and taken \ 
I, who am licensed by good Christian people, 

Eat and eat at their souls till by angels forsaken : 
I spoil them, I soil them, and past all reclaiming 
They fall, sick with sins that are too black for naming. 

Ho ! ho ! Father Death ! count me as your best man : 
I bring you more souls than famine or battle. 

Let pestilence rage ! it will last but a season, 

And the soft voice of Peace stills the cannon's loud 
rattle ; 

But I, pausing never, with ceaseless endeavour, 

Night and day, day and night, I am toiling for ever. 

Ho ! ho ! Father Death ! I have brought you my 
thousands : 
Good people help me, license, uphold me, 
Gaze on some victim I stole from their household — 
Gaze, and upbraid the foul demon that sold me. 

D 



34 Drops of Water. 

Ah ! but they helped him — argued and voted 
Till license was granted, and I was promoted. 

Ho ! ho ! Father Death ! is he not a grand victim ? 

I bring you souls that are well worth the winning — 
Noble and brave, with the rare gifts of heaven ; 

But I eat them away and pollute them with sinning. 
Now, but for me, there would be few above him, 
Honoured and prized by the dear ones who love him. 



" BASS AND CO.'S BITTER BEER." 

Altered from "Ph. Best and Co.'s Lager Beer.^ 

IN every part of the thrifty town, 
Whether my course be up or down, 
In lane, and alley, and avenue, 
Painted in yellow, and red, and blue, 
This side and that, wherever you go, 
Was this flaunting sign-board of " Bass and Co." 

'Twas hung high up, and swung in the air 
With a swaggering, bold-faced, " devil-may-care- 



"Bass and Co!s Bitter Beer! 1 35 

It-is-noneof-your-business ,; sort of a way ; 

Or, as if dreading the light o' the day, 

It hung low, over a basement-stair, 

And seemed ashamed when you saw it there. 

Or it shone like a wicked and evil eye 

From a " restaurant " door on passers by, 

And seemed with a twinkling wink to say : 

" Are you downward bound ? Then step this way ; 

This is the ticket-office of sin \ 

If you think of purchasing, pray walk in." 

Or it glared from a window where the light 

Of the lamps within shone full and bright, 

And seemed to be saying, " Come out of the storm ! 

Come into my haven snug and warm \ 

I will give you warmth from the flowing bowl, 

And all I ask is your purse and soul." 

But whether on window, door, or stair, 
Wherever I went, it was always there; 
Painted in yellow, and red, and blue, 
It stared from alley and avenue : 



36 Drops of Water. 

North, south, east, west, — where'er you go, 
Flows the bitter beer of Bass and Co. 

And who is this Bass, do you stay to ask ? 

Oh ! he is a man whose noble task 

Is the brewing of beer — good beer, first-class — 

That shall sparkle, and bubble, and boil in the glass : 

Shall sparkle and flow till drank, and then 

Feast like a vampire on brains of men. 

Ah ! brewer Bass, when you pass from view, 
Your name and your works will live after you. 
Then, brothers, we'll raise a monument, 
Inscribed, " To the Brewer of Beer, that sent 
A million of souls to the depths of hell ; 
Turned genius and worth to the prison-cell ; 

Stole bread from the mouth of the hungry child : 
Made the father a brute, and the mother wild ; 
Turned peaceful homes into hells, alas ! 
Oh ! a very great man was the brewer Bass. 
O Bass ! when you have passed from view, 
Your ?iame and your deeds will live after you." 



The Mother's Prayer. 37 

THE MOTHER'S PRAYER. 

A MOTHER kneels by the cradle, 
Where her little infant lies, 
And she sees the ghastly shadows 

Creeping around his eyes ; 
And she clasps her hands together, 

And her heart beats loud and wild, 
And she cries in a gush of anguish, 
" O Father ! save my child. 

" Oh, do not, do not take him 

So soon to the home on high ; 
My beautiful, dark-eyed darling, 

God, he must not die. 
I cannot pray in meekness 

1 My Father's will be done ; ' 
I can only cry in anguish, 

' Oh ! save my infant son.' " 

Slowly the ghastly shadows 

Crept from the baby's eyes, 
And the mother saw the bright orbs 

Open in sweet surprise ■ 



38 Drops of Water. 

And she heard the lisping prattle, 

And the childish laugh again, 
And she clasped him close to her bosom, 
And her glad tears fell like rain. 

The mother stands at the window, 

Watching the night come down, 
As it settles slowly, slowly 

Over the busy town ; 
And the withered face is troubled, 

And she sighs in a weary way : 
" Oh ! where does my darling tarry, 

Now at the close of day ? 

" Surely his task is ended : 

Why is it he does not come ? " 
Ah ! mother, one word will answer, 

And that one word is Rum. 
He stands at the bar this moment, 

Draining the tempter's bowl ; 
And your beautiful boy has entered 

His name on the drunkards' roll. 



The Mother s Prayer. 39 

Ah ! well, your prayer was answered : 

You prayed that he might not die, 
That he might not join the angels 

Who dwell in their home on high. 
O mother ! say, is it better, 

Or is it worse than death, 
To see your darling stagger, 

And feel his rum-foul breath ? 

You could not pray, " My Father, 

Thy will, not mine, be done ; " 
But cried, in your deaf, blind sorrow, 

" Oh ! save my infant son." 
And is he saved, fond mother ? 

And which is better, pray, 
To know he is there in the rum-shop, 

Or under the grass, to-day ? 

O God of a mighty nation ! 

When shall the glad day be 
That the liquor reign is ended, 

And our land is truly free ? — 



40 Drops of Water. 

When our darling boys may wander 
Through all its breadth and length, 

With never a serpent lurking 
To slay them in their strength ? 

Full many a year has vanished 

Since the grand triumphant day 
When we stood in bold defiance 

Of a tyrant monarch's sway ; 
And now in a blood-red torrent, 

At the price of a million graves, 
We have swept the bonds and shackles 

From the hands of a million slaves. 

And yet we are under a tyrant, 

And yet we are slaves to-day, 
And we do not bid defiance 

To the baleful liquor sway. 
Up ! O ye mourning captives \ 

Strike at the tyrant's hand ! 
Loosen his hold for ever — 

Deliver a bondaged land ! 



The Temperance Harvest. 41 

THE TEMPERANCE HARVEST. 

WE have lingered by the flowers 
And loitered all too long. 
There is work for hands like ours — 
Hands that are young and strong. 
There is need of muscles steady — 

And of willing hearts and true, 
For the harvest fields are ready, 
And the labourers are few. 

Let us drop our wreaths of roses — 

Let us leave this useless life ; 
When another morn uncloses, * 

Let us seek the field of strife. 
We will reap upon the meadows — 

We will gather in the sheaves — 
We will show, as evening shadows, 

Better things than withered leaves. 

Hark ! the hungry worms defy us, 

Gnawing in the golden grain ! 
If we let this day go by us, 

It will never come again. 



42 Drops of Water. 

Forward, then, each son and daughter, 
For the harvest battle-field, 

With your sickles of cold water, 
Reap and bind, and never yield. 

I can hear the roll of thunder 

In the distance, far away ; 
Onward, to the ripe fields yonder — 

There is work for us to-day. 
We must all unite together 

In a grand and mighty one ; 
Reap, and bind, defying weather, 

Till the setting of the sun. 

Bring your sickles — faster, faster ! 

Gather in the sheaves from harm ; 
Know you not the gracious Master 

Waits to take them to His arm ? 
Workers, do you know your wages ? 

'Tis for each a starry crown ! 
You shall wear it through all ages, 

Where the light of heaven shines down. 



The Temperance Harvest. 43 

Oh, the stars of brilliant glory, 

That shall rich your diadem, 
While the angels tell the story 

Of the souls yon brought to them. 
Onward, to the field of labour ! 

God is pointing out the way ; 
Join us, friend, and come, my neighbour, 

There is work for you to-day. 

Let the whole free air be singing, 

Let the echoes rise and fall 
With the songs that we are singing — 

Songs of " down with Alcohol.'' 
Onward, then ! be firm and steady, 

There is work for all to do, 
For the harvest fields are ready, 

And the labourers are few. 



44 Drops of Water. 

OUT OF THE DEPTHS. 

WRITTEN AFTER THE REFORMATION OF A BRILLIANT AND TALENTED MAN. 

OUT of the midnight, rayless and cheerless, 
Into the morning's golden light • 
Out of the clutches of wrong and ruin, 

Into the arms of truth and right ; 
Out of the ways that are ways of sorrow, 
Out of the paths that are paths of pain, 
Yea, out of the depths has a soul arisen, 
And "one that was lost is found again. " 

Lost in the sands of an awful desert, 

Lost in the region of imps accursed, 
With bones of victims to mark his pathway, 

And burning lava to quench his thirst ; 
Lost in the darkness, astray in the shadows ; 

Father above, do we pray in vain ? 
Hark ! on the winds come gleeful tidings, 

Lo ! he was lost, but is found again. 

Found ! and the sunlight of God's great mercy 
Dispels the shadows, and brings the morn ; 



Out of the Depths. 45 

Found ! and the hosts of the dear Redeemer 
Are shouting aloud o'er a soul new born, — 

Plucked, like a brand, from the conflagration, 
Cleaned, like a garment, free from stain, 

Saved, pray God, for ever and ever ; 
Lost for a season, but found again. 

" Out of the depths " by the grace of heaven, 

Out of the depth of woe and shame, 
And he blots his name from the roll of drunkards, 

To carve it again on the heights of fame. 
11 Wine is a mocker, and strong drink raging : " 

Glory to God, he has snapped the chain 
That bound him with fetters of steel and iron, 

And he that was lost is found again. 

Down with the cup, though it gleam like rubies ; 

Down with the glass, though it sparkle and shine, 
" It bites like a serpent, and stings like an adder," 

There is woe, and sorrow, and shame in wine. 
Keen though the sword be, and deadly its mission, 

Three times its number the wine-cup has slain. 
God, send Thy grace unto those it has fettered — 

God grant the lost may be found again. 



\6 Drops of Water. 

TICKETS TO SELL. 

THERE'S a road all completed in perfect condition, 
Running straight, with no turn, from the earth to 
perdition • 
There are trains starting out every hour in the day, 
With room for all souls that are going that way — 
And the depots are scattered broad-cast o'er the land. 
There are men everywhere, who await your command, 
With tickets to sell — tickets to sell ; 
Tickets to ticket you through to hell. 

There's a first-class ticket — a glass of " old wine ; " 
And Bacchus smiles up from the " nectar divine. " 
Drink it, drink it, young man ; it's a No. i pass ! 
It will carry you through to perdition first-class. 
You will enter the palace car — ah ! but the end 
Unto you and the street sot will be the same, friend. 
Tickets — first, second, and third class — to sell ; 
Tickets to ticket you through to hell. 

Third and second — ale, whisky, rum, brandy, and beer 
Cheap as dirt, come and buy ! they are all for sale here. 



Temperance Alphabet. 47 

Are you troubled with baggage ? No matter, you know, 

It will lessen and lighten the farther you go. 

Is the road safe ? Yes, friend, buy a ticket, and you 

Cannot fail of the station you're ticketed to. 

Tickets to sell — tickets to sell ; 

Tickets to carry you through to hell. 

Swift, swift from the high lands of peace, truth, and light ; 
Down, down through the marshes of mildew and blight \ 
Through the tunnels of sorrow, of terror, and pain ; 
Through the low lands of shame, and o'er poverty's plain ; 
Through crime, grief, and sin, to the valley of death, 
Doth the engine speed down, with its hot scorching breath. 
All aboard ? Wait ! — show me your ticket — 'tis well ; 
It will carry you through to destruction and hell. 



A 



TEMPERANCE ALPHABET. 

STANDS for Ale, a most poisonous drink ; 
People are foolish who taste it, I think. 



B stands for Beer, that's as bad, if not worse ; 
Both prove to the drinker a ruin and curse. 



48 Drops of Water, 

C stands for Cider ; don't sip it, I pray, 
For many a drunkard is made in that way. 

D stands for Drop ; though but one's in the cup, 
A bowlful may follow if you drink it up. 

E stands for Earnings ; and many a man 
Spends his in the beer-shop ; a very poor plan. 

F stands for Fiend, and the worst fiend of all 
Is the many-faced demon, old Alcohol. 

G stands for Gutter, a wretched mud-hole, 

Where men oft lie down who imbibe from the bowl. 

H stands for Horror, the drunken man feels, 

When, with " snakes in his boots, " he staggers and reels. 

I stands for Ills, with pains, poverty, woes, 
That Alcohol carries wherever he goes. 

J stands for Justice, a good thing no doubt, 

Which the judge who drinks liquor knows nothing about. 

K stands for Kindness ; a word which, I fear, 
The men who sell liquor are too deaf to hear. 



Temperance Alphabet. 49 

L stands for Lying : strong drink is a foe 
To truth and to honour, as all people know. 

M stands for Mourning ; all over our land 
Alcohol makes it with his cruel band. 

N stands for Nobles ; true nobles are they 
Who battle this demon by night and by day. 

O stands for Odious, which people become 

When they make themselves barrels for brandy and rum. 

P stands for Peace, which is certain to fly 
When riotous Alcohol's huts are near by. 

Q stands for Quantity ; little or much, 

Strong drink is a thing you had better not touch. 

R stands for Rowdy, Rumseller, and Riot : 
Prohibition will give them all three a new diet. 

S stands for Silly ; the drunkard is that 

When he goes reeling home with a brick in his hat. 

T stands for Trials, that make up the life 
Of the drunkard's poor children and sad-hearted wife. 

E 



50 Drops of Water. 

U stands for Use ; it's a very good word, 
But the use of strong liquors is simply absurd. 

V stands, I suppose, for the harmless grape-vine : 
God gave us the fruit, but men make the wine. 

W stands for Wickedness, Wailing, and Woes ; 

They are all in the wine-cup the drunkard well knows. 

X stands for — well, really, I do not know what, 
But it crosses its legs like a drunken old sot. 

Y stands for Yield, and old Alcohol must, 

For we soldiers will humble him down in the dust. 

Z stands for Zero — zero for naught, 
Naught (o) stands for nothing ; 

And that is just what 
Boys find in their pockets who tipple and drink : 
It's a very bad habit, I certainly think. 



Words from the Wind. 5 1 

WORDS FROM THE WIND. 

I CALLED to the wind of the Winter, 
As he sped like a steed on his way, * 

" Oh ! rest for awhile on thy journey, 
And answer these questions, I pray. 

" Who is the foe to all virtue, 

Who is the chieftain of crime ? 
Who blackens the forehead of beauty, 

And cheateth the finger of Time ? 
Who maketh the heart to be aged 

In the beautiful morning of youth ? 

" Who is the herald of sorrow, 

And who the assassin of Truth ? 
Who is the help-meet of Satan, 

The agent of regions below ? 
Who the promoter of vices ? 

Who loadeth the bosom with woe ? 
Who stealeth the strength of the mighty ? 

Who stealeth the wits of the wise ? 
Who maketh the good and the noble 

A thing that the meanest despise ? 



52 Drops of Water. 

And the wind of the wild Winter answered, 

In a voice like a clarion call : 
" Tis a beast legion-headed, a demon 

Whom men christened ' King Alcohol,' 
This is the help-meet that Satan 

Sends out from the kingdom of hell, 
A many-faced demon, who doeth 

The work of the master right well ; 
For he weaveth his web round the noble, 

And slayeth the soul with his breath. 
Ah ! this is the foe to all virtue, 

And this is the agent of death." 



A TUMBLER OF CLARET. 

I POURED out a tumbler of Claret, 
Of course with intention to drink, 
And, holding it up in the sunlight, 
I paused for a moment to think. 
I really can't tell you what made me ; 
I never had done so before, 



A Tumbler of Claret. 53 

Though for years, every day at my dinner, 
I had emptied one tumbler or more. 

" A friend " in the loneliest hours, 

"A companion, " I called the red wine, 
And sometimes I poetised slightly, 

And called it a " nectar difine. " 
But to-day, as I gazed at the claret, 

That sparkled and glowed in the sun, 
I asked it, " What have you done for me, 

That any true friend would have done ? 

" You have given me some pleasant feelings, 

But they always were followed by pain ; 
You have given me ten thousand headaches, 

And are ready to do it again. 
You have set my blood leaping and bounding, 

Which, though pleasant, was hurtful, no doubt, 
And, if I keep up the acquaintance, 

I am sure you will give me the gout. 

" I remember a certain occasion, 

When you caused me to act like a fool ; 



54 Drops of Water. 

And, yes, I remember another 

When you made me fall into a pool. 

And there was Tom Smith ers — you killed him ! 
Will Howard you made a poor knave j 

Both my friends ! and I might count a dozen 
You have sent to the prison or grave. 

" Is this like a loyal friend's treatment ? 

And are you deserving the name ? 
Say ! what do you give those who love you 

But poverty, sorrow, and shame ? 
A few paltry moments of pleasure, 

And ages of trouble and grief. 
No wonder you blush in the sunlight, 

You robber, you liar, you thief ! 

" I will have nothing more to do with you 

From this moment, this hour, this day ; 
To send you adrift, bag and baggage, 

I know is the only safe way." 
And I poured out that tumbler of claret, 

Poured it out, and not down, on the spot ; 
And all this, you see, was accomplished 

By a few sober moments of thought. 



What we Want 55 

WHAT WE WANT. 

WE have scores of Temperance men, 
Bold and earnest, brave and true, 
Fighting with the tongue and pen, 
And we value what they do ; 
But, my friends, 
To gain our ends, 
You must use the ballot, too. 

When we tell about our cause, 

Politicians only smile ; 
While they mould and make our laws, 
What care they for rank or file ? 
" Preach and pray, " 
They sneer, and say, 
" We'll make liquor laws the while. " 

We want men who dare to fling 

Party ties and bonds away ; 
Who will cast them off, and cling 
To the truth, and boldly say, 
" Vote and fight 
For God and right, " 
Then our cause shall gain the day. 



5 6 Drops of Water. 

THE TWO ARMIES. 

ONCE, over the ocean, in distant lands, 
In an age long past, were two hostile bands- 
Two armies of men,' both brave, both strong, 
And their hearts beat high as they marched along 
To fight the battle of right and wrong. 

Never, I think, did the Eye of heaven 
Look down on two armies so nearly even 
In well-trained soldiers, in strength and might. 
But one was the Wrong, and one was the Right, 
And the last was the stronger in heaven's sight. 
And these hostile armies drew near, one night, 
And pitched their tents on two hill-sides green, 
With only the brow of a hill between. 

With the first red beams of the morning light 
Both knew would open the awful fight, 
And one of the armies lay hushed and still, 
And slept in the tents on the green side-hill. 
Heart beat with heart : and they all were as one 
In the thought of the battle to be begun 
With the first bright glance of the morning sun. 



The Two Armies, 57 

Their aim was ignoble, their cause was wrong, 
But they were united, and so they were strong. 

Not so the army just over the hill : 
While the ranks of the foe were hushed and still, 
The ranks of the Right were torn with strife, 
And with noise and confusion the air was rife. 
Disputes and quarrels, dissensions and jars, 
And the sound of fighting, and civil wars ; 
And, ere the morning, brother and brother, 
Instead of the enemy, fought with each other. 

Over the hill, the foe, in glee, 

Listened and laughed. " Ho, ho ! " quoth he, 

"There is strife in the enemy's ranks, I see, 

And the bright red beams of the rising sun 

Will see a victory easily won. 

It matters little how strong the foe, 

This is a truth we all do know : 

There is no success without unity. 

However noble the cause may be. 

The day is ours before it's begun : 

Ho ! for the triumph so easily won." 



58 Drops of Water. 

And on the morrow, the ranks of the Right 

Were routed and beaten, and put to flight, 

And the Wrong was the victor, and gained the fight 

There are two armies abroad to-day, 
As in the age that has passed away : 
The makers, and venders, and patrons, and all 
Who aid in the traffic of Alcohol, — 
These are the warriors, bold and strong, 
Who swell the ranks of the army of Wrong ; 
And we are the soldiers, true and brave, 
Who are striving with heart and hand to save 
The youths of our land from the deep, dark grave 
That the foe is digging by day and by night. 
Only one thing can defeat the Right. 
There is nothing but triumph for us, unless 
Dissension, — that crafty foe to success, — 
Creeps into our ranks. Oh ! let us unite I 
Let heart beat with heart as we enter the fight ; 
Let the whole mighty army be one for the time, 
And sweep on the foe in a column sublime 
In its unity, earnestness, oneness, and might, 
Till the foe stands aghast at the wonderful sight, 



The Two Glasses. 59 

Till the enemy cowers and shivers, afraid 
Of the awful approach of the grand cavalcade. 
Close up the ranks, brothers ! sisters, draw near, 
We are fighting one fight, we are all kinsmen here ; 
Closer, still closer ! in nearness lies might, 
Love is our watchword — on to the fight ! 



THE TWO GLASSES. 

THERE stood two glasses, filled to the brim, 
On a rich man's table, rim to rim : 
One was ruddy, and red as blood, 
And one was clear as the crystal flood. 

Said the glass of wine to his paler brother, 
" Let us tell tales of the past to each other. 
I can tell of banquet, and revel, and mirth, 
And the proudest and grandest souls on earth 
Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight, 
Where I was king, for I ruled in might. 

" From the heads of kings I have torn the crown, 
From the heights of fame I have hurled men down ; 



60 Drops of Water. 

I have blasted many an honoured name, 
I have taken virtue, and given shame ; 
I have tempted the youth, with a sip, a taste, 
That has made his future a barren waste. 

" Far greater than any king am I, 
Or than any army beneath the sky. 
I have made the arm of the driver fail, 
And sent the train from the iron rail ; 
I have made good ships go down at sea, 
And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me. 
Fame, strength, wealth, genius, before me fall, 
And my might and power are over all. 
Ho ! ho ! pale brother/' laughed the wine, 
" Can you boast of deeds as great as mine ? " 

Said the water glass, " I cannot boast 

Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host ; 

But I can tell of hearts, that once were sad, 

By my crystal drops made light and glad ; 

Of thirsts I've quenched, and brows IVe laved, 

Of hands I have cooled, and souls IVe saved. 

IVe leaped through the valley, dashed down the mountain ; 



The Two Glasses. 61 

Slept in the sunshine, and dripped from the fountain ; 

I have burst my cloud fetters, and dropped from the sky, 

And everywhere gladdened the landscape and eye. 

I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain, 

I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain. 

I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill, 

That ground out the flour and turned at my will ; 

I can tell of manhood, debased by you, 

That I have lifted and crowned anew. 

I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid, 

I gladden the heart of man and maid ; 

I set the chained wine captive free, 

And all are better for knowing me." 

These are the tales they told each other, 
The glass of wine and its paler brother, 
As they stood together, filled to the brim, 
On the rich man's table rim to rim. 



62 Drops of Water. 

IS IT WELL ? 

O AW you the youth, with the face like the morning, 
^ Refilling the glass, that foamed white as the sea ? 
Heard you the words that fell down like a warning, 
u Lift not the glass : it holds sorrow for thee ? " 

He heeds not nor listens : 

The red liquor glistens, 
And he sees not the fangs of the serpent beneath. 

And the fiends are elated, 

And the voice waileth " Fated/' 
As he drains out the glass — the dumb agent of death. 

High had he set his mark : fame, wealth, and glory, 

All should be his ere the noon-tide of life ; 
A name that should live in the annals of story, 
His was a heart that could battle with strife. 
" Here's to youthful endeavour ! " 
He cries. " Ah ! for ever 
Shall the ruddy glass cheer me on life's rugged way. 
There is strength for all trouble 
In each airy bubble. 
Who dares prate of danger and sorrow, I pray ? " 



Origin of the Liquor Dealer. 63 

Where is the youth with the face like the morning ? 

Where are the hopes that glowed bright as the noon ? 
He who had heard and obeyed not the warning, 
Oh ! has he reaped the dire harvest so soon ? 

He quaffed, all unheeding 

The small voice's pleading, 
And he lieth to-night in a dark prison cell. 

This is his glory, 

The name carved in story; 
This has the red glass done. Say, is it well ? 



ORIGIN OF THE LIQUOR DEALER. 

THE devil in hell gave a festival, 
And he called his imps from their wine — 
Called them up from the ruddy cup, 
And marshalled them into line. 
And each to his place sprang the imps apace, 

And they stood there, side by side. 
" Now, listen well, O ye hosts of hell ! 
And mark me," the devil cried. 



64 Drops of Water. 

" There is work to do for all of you, 

Held for this night in store ; 
Then stir up the fire, till it burneth higher 

Than ever it did before. 
When the coals glow hot, set ye the pot 

Half full of the best brimstone, 
And three of the worst and most accursed 

Hell claimeth as its own. 
Of demons bring, when the pot shall sing, 

And cast them into the boil." 
Then over the region scattered the legion 

Away to the fiendish toil. 



They work with a will, and they work until 

Three imps are a-boil in the pot ; 
And the devil stands, and stirs with his hands 

The liquid, seething hot ; 
And the demons revel around the devil 

With many a fiendish shout, 
Till he cries, "Ho, ho!" and the demons go 

And turn the liquid out. 



Origin of the Liquor Dealer. 65 

Turn it in, to a lake of gin, 

Where the devil bathes, to cool ; 
Then lift it up, and turn on a cup 

Of wine they dip from a pool. 
Then they dip it in ale, till it turneth pale, 

In beer, till it gloweth red. 
It ? nay, he ! for the thing they see 

Is a man, from heel to head. 

And he claps the hands of the devil who stands 

Bowing before his face, 
And he says, " Dear friend, will you please to send 

A lad to show me my place ? " 

And the devil winks sly : and he says, " Ay, ay ! 

Old fellow, I guess you'll do ; 
You can work more wrong with that oily tongue 

Than all my malicious crew. 

" You must go to the earth ! In th' halls of mirth, 

In the teeming city's heart — 
In any place that you show your face 

I will help you do your part. 

F 



66 Drops of Water, 

" I will give you a name — it is steeped in shame, 
But the world will use you well. 

It is ' Liquor Dealer. ' It means soul stealer, 
And Major-General of Hell. 

"Go forth, my friend, and work to the end, 
I will pay you in gleaming gold ; 

For every soul you drown in the bowl 
I will give you wealth untold." 

Then forth he went, this fiend hell-sent, 
And he doeth his work to-day — 

Doeth it well ; and the hosts of hell 
Are singing his praise alway. 



IN THE NIGHT. 

IN the silent midnight watches, 
When the earth was clothed in gloom, 
And the grim and awful darkness 
Crept unbidden to my room — 



In the Night. 6j 

On the solemn, deathly stillness 

Of the night, there broke a sound, 
Like ten million wailing voices 

Crying loudly from the ground. 

From ten million graves came voices, 

East and West, and North and South, 
Leagues apart, and yet together 

Spake they, e'en as with one mouth : 
" Men and women ! men and women ! " 

Cried these voices from the ground, 
And the very earth was shaken 

With the strange and awful sound — 

u Ye who weep in selfish sorrow, 

Ye who laugh in selfish mirth, 
Hark ! and listen for a moment 

To the voices from the earth : 
Wake and listen ! ye who slumber, 

Pause and listen ! ye who feast, 
To the warning of the voices 

From the graves in West and East. 



68 Drops of Water, 

" We, the victims of a demon, 

We who, one and each and all, 
Can cry out before high heaven, 

' We are slain by alcohol ! f — 
We would warn you, youths and maidens, 

From the path that we have trod — 
From the path that leads to ruin, 

And away from peace and God. 

" We, the millions who have fallen, 

Warn you from the ruddy glow 
Of the wine in silver goblets, 

For destruction lies below. 
Wine and gin, and rum and brandy, 

Whisky, cider, ale, and beer, 
These have slain us and destroyed us — 

These the foes that brought us here. 

" ' You are safe,' you say. Ah, heaven ! 

So we said, and drank, and died. 
* We are safe ! ' we proudly boasted, 

Yet we sank down in the tide. 



In the Night. 69 



There is never any safety 
From the snares of alcohol 

For the youth who looks on liquor, 
Tastes or touches it at all. 

" We beseech you, men and women, 

Fathers, mothers, sons, and wives, 
To arise, and slay the demon 

That is threatening dear ones' lives ! 
Do not preach of moderation 

To your children ; for, alas ! 
There is not a foe more subtle 

Than the fateful ' social glass.' 

" Thoughtless mother, wife, or sister, 

Dash that poison cup away ! 
He, the husband, son, or brother 

Who so gaily sips to-day, 
May to-morrow stagger homeward. 

Jeered and scorned by sober men. 
Would you smile upon him proudly— 

Would you say, ' I did it/ then ? 



70 Drops of Water. 

" Ah ! a vast and mighty number 

Of the drunkards in all lands 
Take the first step to destruction 

Led by white and fragile hands. 
Every smile you give the wine-cup, 

Every glance, O lady fair ! 
Like a spade, digs down and hollows 

Out a drunkard's grave somewhere. 

" Men in office, men in power, 

Will you let this demon wild 
Stalk unfettered through the nation, 

Slaying woman, man, and child ? 
Oh ! arouse, ye listless mortals, 

There is work for every one ! 
We have warned you of your danger— 

We have spoken, we have done/ 5 

Round about me fell the silence 
Of the solemn night once more, 

And I heard the quiet ticking 
Of the clock outside my door. 



The Dirge of the Winds. 71 

It was not a dreamer's fancy, 

Not a romance of my brain, 
But the warning of the victims 

That old Alcohol had slain. 



THE DIRGE OF THE WINDS. 

r 1 ^HE four winds of earth, the North, South, East, 

-*• and West, 
Shrieked and groaned, sobbed and wailed, like the soul 

of unrest. 
I stood in the dusk of the twilight alone, 
And heard them go by with a terrible moan. 
"What is it, O winds ! that is grieving you so? 
Come, tell me your sorrow, and tell me your woe ! M 
" What is it ? " I questioned. They shuddered, and said : 
" We mourn for the dead ! oh, we mourn for the dead — 

" For the dishonoured dead that the wine-cup has slain ; 
For the wrecks that are lying on hill and on plain ; 
For the beautiful faces, so young and so fair, 
That are lying down under the green grasses there ; 



72 Drops of Water. 

For the masterful minds and beautiful souls 

That were shattered, and drowned, and debased in the 

bowls ; 
For the graves that are scattered broadcast o'er the 

land, 
The graves that were dug by King Alcohol's hand ; 
For the scenes that we saw as we came on our way, 
The sights and the sounds that degraded the day. 
East and West, North and South, the tale is the same — 
A tale of debasement, and sorrow, and shame. 
And this is our sorrow, and this is our woe : 
It is this, it is this, that is grieving us so." 

Three winds hushed their voices. The East wind alone 
Told her tale in a moaning and sorrowful tone : 
" I came yesterday from the great Eastern land, 
Where the mountains are high and the cities are grand ; 
But the devil walks there, night and day, in the streets, 
And he offers red wine to each soul that he greets. 
They drink, and the record of crimes and of sins, 
And the record of shame and of sorrow begins. 
I sped from the sin-burdened East to the West, 
But I find not of balm for my agonised breast. 



The Dirge of the Winds. 73 

Wine blackens the West as it blackens the East." 
And the voice of the wind sobbed and wailed as it 
ceased. 

" I come from the West ! " another voice cried, 
" Where the rivers are broad, and the prairies are wide. 
There is vigour and strength in that beautiful land, 
But the devil walks there with a bowl in his hand, 
And the strongest grow weak, and the mightiest fall 
In the damnable reign of this King Alcohol." 

He ceased, and another came mournfully forth, 
And spake : " I came from the land of the North, 
Where the streamlets are ice and the hillocks are snow, 
And little of passions in mortal veins flow. 
But the devil walks there in that land, day and night, 
And he covers his face with a mask that is white ; 
And he smiles as he pours out the wine for his prey, 
Nor counts up the legions he kills every day." 

The voice of the South wind spoke now in a sigh : 
" And I, too, can tell of the thousands that die 
By the hand of this king, in the soft, southern clime, 
Where the sweet waters flow in a musical chime. 



74 Drops of Water. 

The devil walks there by King Alcohol's side, 

And he pours out the wine till it flows in a tide ; 

It rushes along with a gurgling sound, 

And thousands are caught in the current and drowned." 

Again the four winds cried aloud in their woe : 
" It is this, it is this, that is grieving us so. 
We see the mad legions go down to the grave, 
Unable to warn them, unable to save, 
We shriek and we groan, we shudder in pain, 
For the souls that are lost, for the youths that are slain ; 
And the river flows onward, the river wine-red, 
And we mourn for the dead, oh ! we mourn for the 
dead." 



"ONE WAS TAKEN, AND ONE WAS LEFT." 

r I ^WO harvesters walked through the rows of 

-*- corn, 

Down to the ripe wheat fields, one morn. 
Both were fair, in the flush of youth, 
With hearts of courage and eyes of truth — 



One was Taken , and One was Left. 75 

Fair and young, with the priceless wealth 
Of strength, and beauty, and glowing health. 

Loud and clear was their mellow song 
On the morning air, as they strode along ; 
And the reaper clashed on its yellow track, 
And the song of the driver answered back 
To the harvesters, as they bound the wheat 
That sheaf on sheaf lay at their feet. 

High rose the sun o'er the golden plain, 

And the binders rested by the. grain, 

And sitting there, 'neath a friendly shade, 

Each quenched the thirst that their labour made ; 

But one drank from the water mug, 

And the other from the whisky jug. 

Back to their tasks went the binders twain, 
Binding the sheaves of the yellow grain, 
On sped the reaper, to and fro 
Slaying the wheat with a cruel blow, 
Leaving it slaughtered, rank on rank — 
And again the binders paused and drank. 



y6 Drops of Water. 

Higher and hotter rose the sun : 

On sped the moments, one by one, 

And again the binders stopped and quaffed 

From the miig and the jug a cooling draught \ 

And slowly, slowly they bound the wheat 

As the sun shone down with its scorching heat. 

Slower, still slower, one youth goes round : 
He falls — he lieth upon the ground. 
A cry for help, and the workmen come 
And carry their stricken comrade home. 
" And one is taken, and one is left." 
Weepeth the mother, " I am bereft." 

One youth alone, on another morn, 
Walks to the field through the rows of corn. 
He who drank of the sparkling tide 
Walketh still in his manhood's pride ; 
But he w T ho drank from the jug lies low, 
Dead, in the morn of his manhood's glow. 



Were I Man Grown. J7 



WERE I MAN GROWN. 

WERE I man grown, I'd stand 
With a clean heart, soul, and hand, 
An honour to this land. 

I would be good and true : 
I would not smoke and chew 
As many grown men do. 

Tobacco is foul stuff : 

Hogs root it from the trough, 

And serve it right enough. 

I wish I'd every seed 

And plant of that bad weed, 

I'd make a fire indeed ! 

And these two lips of mine 
Should never taste of wine, 
Though it might glow and shine. 

No wine, no beer, no gin, 

No ale, no rum — within 

Each drink lurk shame and sin. 



78 Drops of Water. 

And I'd not swear. Ah ! when 
We boys grow into men, 
You'll see true manhood then : 

For we shall be and do 
Just what I've said ; and you 
Had better try it, too. 



THE "COMING MEN." 
(For Juvenile Temple Recitation.) 

HURRAH ! for the good time coming, 
When the boys of to-day are men ! 
Do you think you'll find them idling, 
An army of loafers, then ? 

Do you think on every corner 
They'll hang as men do to-day, 

And smoke, and stare at the women 
And girls who pass that way ? 



The Coming Men. 79 

No ! We are the men that are coming — 

We, the cold water band ; 
And we shall not grow into loafers, 

I'd have you to understand. 

We are ashamed of the idlers, 

Ashamed of them, one and all ; 
And we scorn cigars and tobacco, 

And we hate old Alcohol. 

They call us the little children, 

When they see us passing by ; 
But if we are not nearer manhood 

Than they, I'll ask you, Why ? 

It is purity, truth, and honour 

That build up a manly man ; 
Now which of us secures the title ? — 

Just tell me if you can. 

Do you think you'll find us sneaking 

Behind a painted screen, 
Ashamed of the place we enter, 

And hoping we shan't be seen ? 



8o Drops of Water. 

Yet this is the way these me?i do ; 

But I'd have you understand 
That we set a better example — 

We, the cold water band. 



A WORD OF WARNING. 

I WOULD say to the youths of our noble land, 
The youths who must one day take command 
Of our glorious nation in all its might, 
I would say to them all, through the pen to-night, 
Whatever their station, or high, or low, 
Whatever they do, and wherever they go, 
As they value their lives, let them shun the brink 
Where thousands go down on the rocks of Drink. 

If they would be men, as the grand word stands, 

Men with clean hearts, and untarnished hands, 

If they would have honour, and name, and wealth, 

If they would be strong with the strength of health, 

If they would win glory, or praise, or fame, 

Let them turn from the pathway that leads to shame,- 



A Word of Warning. 81 

If they value their honour, or love their God, 

Let them shun the road that the drunkard has trod. 

I know of the palaces, fair to the sight, 

Where wine sparkles clear in the chandeliers' light, 

I know of white hands, that are lifting, alas ! 

To lips scarcely bearded, the poisonous glass ; 

I know how young blood flushes hot to the brain — 

How caution is lost when excitement has reign, 

And I send forth my warning to one and to all — 

Turn, turn from the dangers of Fiend Alcohol. 

" Wine is a mocker,' 7 and drink leads to death, 

It blackens the soul, while it taints the breath ; 

It blunts the conscience, and reddens the nose, 

'Tis the slayer of peace, and the breeder of woes ; 

And so to the youths who are perilled to-night, 

I write what I know, and I pray as I write, 

" God help these Thy tempted ones — strengthen Thine 

own, 
Though the wine sparkles bright, may they let it alone." 



82 Drops of Water. 

THE TEST. 

WHEN the west grew red, and the sun's bald 
head 
Dipped into a sea of gold, 
My love came down from the busy town, 

Came down like a knight of old, 
On a steed sloe-black, whose fiery track 

I saw through the gloom afar 
As on he came, with his hoofs aflame, 
Like the trail of a falling star. 

And my love drew rein at the lattice pane, 

And he sprang to my side in glee ; 
And he cried, " Complete is the world, my sweet, 

In this twilight hour with thee." 
And he held me fast, and he said, "At last 

I claim thee as mine — all mine. ,; 
But I turned my face from my love's embrace, 

For the dew on his lips was wine. 

And I cried, " My love, by the stars above, 
I will wed not, last or first, 



The Test. 83 

With the princeliest man, be he under the ban, 

Be he slave to the liquor thirst." 
And he cried, " How now ! " But I said, " My vow 

Is registered high in heaven ; 
It is me or the cup — you must give one up, 

And now is my answer given." 

My love plead long ; but he found me strong 

In the words he had heard me say ; 
And he cried in wrath, " You may keep your path, 

And I will keep mine alway. 
There are maids as fair, who will gladly share 

My lot and my cup of wine ; 
And the ruddy glow of our cheeks shall show 

That it harms not me or mine." 

Then he mounted his steed, and he rode indeed 

Like a knight of the old crusade ; 
And he wedded soon, e'er the fall o\ the moon, 

A queenly and haughty maid ; 
And he drank up his health, and drank up his wealth, 

And his youth, and strength and grace, 
And now bereft, he has nothing left 

But a bloated, hideous face. 



84 Drops of Water. 



THE TEMPERANCE ARMY. 

THOUGH you see no banded army, 
Though you hear no cannons rattle, 
We are in a mighty contest, 
Aye are fighting a great battle. 
We are few, but we are right, 
And we wage the holy fight 
Night and day, and day and night. 

If we do not fail or falter, 

If we do not sleep or slumber, 
We shall win in this great contest, 
Though the foe is twice our number. 
This the burden of our song, 
" We are few, but we are strong, 
And right must triumph over wrong." 

O my sisters ! O my brothers ! 

There is death all round about us. 
Must we, then, sit down discouraged ? 

Will you let the wine-cup rout us ? 



The Temperance Army. 85 

Hear the drunkard's awful wail ! 
See the mourners, bowed and pale ! 
Will you, cowardly, say " fail ? " 

Say not that your heart is with us 

When you do not help or aid us. 
All who love the cause sincerely 

Can do something. God has made us 
Tongues to talk with : you can say 
Something, if you will, each day, 
That will help us on our way. 

Though you are not highly gifted, 

Though you are not bard or poet, 

Though you cannot preach or lecture, 

You can love the cause, and show it 

Boldly, in each thing you do. 

Seeking all that's pure and true, 

This will be a help from you. 

You can say the liquor traffic 

Is a curse to any nation ; 
You can say that prohibition 

Is a blessing and salvation. 



86 Drops of Water. 

You can sow good seeds, and, though 
You may never see them grow, 
They will not be lost, I know. 

In this mighty temperance contest, 
Where no guns or cannons rattle, 
Though you cannot lead the army 
Or be chieftain of the battle, 

With that mighty sword, the tongue, 
You can fight against the wrong, 
You can sing some temperance song. 

Say not that you cannot aid us ! 

Drops of water make the river — 
Make the mighty Mississippi, 
That flows on and on for ever. 
Every word you say for Right 
Gives us courage, gives us might, 
And brings nearer, morn and night. 



Older than You. 87 

OLDER THAN YOU. 

WE are younger in years ! Yes, that is true ; 
But in some things we are older than you. 
For instance, you sometimes say with a smile, 
" It will do to drink wine once in a while." 
We say, " It will not do at all! 1 ' 
Wine is an imp of old Alcohol. 
So are gin and beer, and cider, too. 
If you drink up them, they will eat up you. 

" Cider is not strong drink," you say. 
Ah ! but, my friend, it opens the way 
For brandy and whisky to follow fast. 
It has done it many a time in the past. 
It tempts and teases the appetite. 
Let it alone, boys, keep to the right ; 
Onward and upward we mean to go ; 
Heaven is reached that way, you know. 

People who drink are behind the time ; 
They are black with darkness, and woe, and crime. 
This age is progressive. You people who drink, 
Though ever so little, just pause and think — 



Drops of Water. 

Think of the anguish that liquor makes ; 
Think of the hearts that it burdens and breaks. 
Let it alone : stop drinking to-day — 
This is what we, the children, say. 



ONE WOMAN'S MEMORY. 

HERE is a lock of his soft, dark hair, 
And here are the letters he wrote to me; 
And the ring of gold that I used to wear 

Is here in the casket — see ! 
I put them away ten years ago. 

" What is it," you ask, " did I love in vain ? 
Was my lover unfaithful ? " No, oh ! no. 
My heart was spared that pain. 

He died in the bloom of his manhood's youth. 

You say I have his memory, friend ; 
That he is not dead, but lives, in truth • 

Wait till you hear the end. 



One Woman s Memory. 89 

Death in itself is a little thing, 

It is only passing from here to there ; 
But a death of shame has a bitter sting 

That makes it hard to bear. 

He was good and true as a man could be, 

Noble and pure, when I loved him first ; 
But all of his race were cursed, you see, 

With a fiery, craving thirst, 
And the tempter, morning and noon and night, 

Was placed in his path by a mother's hand. 
The woe of wine, and its blasting blight, 

She did not understand. 

I did not know, or I did not think, 

Of the awful shame that was hidden there 
When I saw him lift the glass, and drink 

To the health of his " lady fair/ 5 
I knew, and I thought when it was too late ; 

I reached out my hands, but I could not save. 
He hurried on to his fearful fate, 

And sank in a drunkard's grave. 



90 Drops of Water. 

He was good, and kind, and true, but weak 

When the ruby wine danced o'er the brim ; 
And woe is me that I did not speak 

One warning word to him ! 
If I had but told him to cast away, 

To touch not and taste not the mocker, wine, 
I need not have felt as I feel to-day 

That blood st ains these hands of mine. 

O ye who have friends on the awful brink 

That hangs o'er the river of ruin and death ! 
When you see them lift the glass, oh ! think 

Of the jagged rocks beneath. 
Reach out a hand ere the deed is done ; 

Send forth a cry in the dear Lord's name ; 
Oh ! stand not aloof while a precious one 

Speeds down to a grave of shame. 



/;/ Memoriam. 91 



IN MEMORIAM. 



[A tribute to the memory of Thurlow W. Brown, who devoted his life to 
the cause of temperance, and whose truly marvellous labours and sacrifices 
for that cause are but half understood or appreciated.] 



LOOKING some papers over, 
Dusty and dim and old, 
I found some words that thrilled me 
With their ring of genuine gold — 
Words that were better than rubies, 
And they stirred me even to tears, 
For the hand that wrote them has rested 
Under the sod for years. 

O name to be spoken softly ! 

O sainted Thurlow Brown ! 
The world lost one of its heroes 

When he dropped the cross for the crown. 
And the cause he loved and fought for 

Lost more than my tongue can tell, 
For he left no soul behind him 

That could do the work so well. 



92 Di r ops of Water. 

When I think of his mighty labours, 

My own seem weak and vain, 
And I know that his place in the vineyard 

Can never be filled again. 
But the burning words that he uttered, 

Or that dropped like coals from his pen, 
Shall live for ever and ever 

In the hearts and minds of men, 

O God ! if spirits do ever 

Come down from heaven on high, 
Let the spirit of this great hero 

Sometimes be hovering nigh ; 
And give him the power to guide us 

In all that we do or say 
For the cause he loved and fought for. 

Oh ! grant it, Lord, I pray. 



Haunted. 93 

HAUNTED. 

WHAT are these nameless mysteries, 
These subtleties of life and death, 
That bring before our spirit eyes 

The loved and lost ; or, like a breath 
Of lightest air. will touch the cheek, 
And yet a wordless language speak ? 

In every breeze that blows to-day, 

One voice seems speaking unto me ; 
And north or south, whichever way 

I turn my gaze, one face I see, 
And closely, closely at my side 
A mystic shadow seems to glide. 

A motley crowd we move among, 

We surge on with the mighty mass, 
And yet no one in all the throng 

Looks strangely on us as we pass. 
No eye but mine own seems to see 
The nameless thing that walks by me. 



94 Drops of Water. 

I cannot touch a proffered hand 

But this strange shadow glides between. 

Why came he from the spirit land ? 

What brought him from the world unseen ? 

Why am I troubled and oppressed 

By the vague presence of my guest ? 

He was my friend ! I should rejoice ! 

I loved him once ! Why do I fear ? 
And yet I shudder as his voice 

Speaks in the wind. I feel him near, 
This restless spirit of the dead, 
And shiver with a nameless dread. 

I loved him once ; he was my friend \ 
He held the first place in my heart, 

And might have held it to the end, 
But our two ways spread wide apart : 

I kept the path upon the hill, 

And he went down and down, until 

He reached the depths of sin and shame, 
And died as sots and drunkards die. 

I ceased to even speak his name. 
God knows I never thought that I, 



Slain. 95 

Who blamed his lack of moral strength, 
Might answer for his fall, at length ! 

restless dead, lost friend of mine ! 

I might have saved you, had I tried. 

1 saw you lift the glass of wine, 

And, seeing, had I warned you, cried, 
" Touch not, taste not the drink accursed ! " 
I might have saved you from the thirst 

That swallowed up your brain and soul. 

But nay ! I scorned you when you fell, 
And, looking upward to my goal, 

Left you to stagger down to hell. 
Accusing spirit of the dead, 
Your presence fills my heart with dread ! 



SLAIN. 

HOLLOW a grave where the willows wave, 
And lay him under the grasses, 
Where the pitying breeze bloweth up from the seas, 
And murmurs a chant as it passes. 



g6 Drops of Water. 

Lay the beautiful face and the form of grace 

Away from the gaze of mortal ; 
Let us hope that his soul has gained the goal 

Over the shining portal. 

Hope ! Ah ! we thrill with a terrible chill. 

Ah ! pen, can you tell the story 
Of the one who died in his manhood's pride, 

Slain in the morn of his glory ? 

There's a blemish of shame on the dear one's name, 
For he died as the drunkard dieth ; 

The ruddy wine-mug was the fiend who dug 
The grave where our darling lieth. 

O God ! and his soul, was it lost in the bowl ? 

Has it gone where the wicked goeth ? 
Shall he bear the sin, and the tempter go in 

Where the beautiful city gloweth ? 

Hush ! O my heart ! act well thy part, 

Nor question a Father's kindness, 
And strive not to see the thing hid from thee 

By a veil of earthly blindness. 



Arise. 97 

But all through the wine may there shimmer and 
shine, 

As it glimmers and glows in the glasses, 
A coffin and grave, and the willows that wave 

Over our dead 'neath the grasses. 



ARISE. 

WHY sit ye idly dreaming all the day, 
While the golden, precious hours flit away ? 
See you not the day is waning, waning fast ? 
That the morn's already vanished in the past ? 

When the glowing noon approaches, we will rest 
Who have worked through all the morning ; but at best, 
If you work with zeal and ardour till the night, 
You can only make the wasted moments right. 

Think your life was made for dreaming, nothing more, 
When God's work lies all unfinished at your door ? 
Souls to save and hearts to strengthen — ah ! such work, 
Such a richly freighted labour, who would shirk ? 

H 



98 Drops of Water. 

Then arise, O idle dreamer ! Dreams are sweet, 
But better flowers are growing at your feet. 
If you crush, or pass unheeding, idle friend, 
You shall answer for their ruin in the end. 



SOME OBJECTIONS TO THE GOOD TEMPLARS' 
ORDER REPLIED TO. 

I AM a Templar through and through, 
And proudly wear the title, too. 
You, sir, or madam, may reply 
" You're just as temperate as I ! 
You like the principles we teach 
(If we but practise what we preach), 
And you will help us, heart and hand." 
Then come, I say, and join our band. 

But, " No — you'd rather not, because 
We're bound by secret codes and laws." 
Now, friends, this secret is so small 
It need not block your way at all. 



Objections to Good Templars Order Replied to. 99 

I here must solemnly declare 

We have no "goat" hid anywhere. 

We keep no animal to ride — 

And no greas'd pole down which we slide. 

Nor do we keep a tub of water 
In which to douse each son and daughter. 
We neither freeze nor fry our members, 
Nor give them seats on glowing embers. 
We meet to plan a course of action 
Against the mighty liquor faction ; 
To aid and strengthen one another, 
Each knowing each a friend and brother. 

And simply to avoid intrusion, 

We guard ourselves by this seclusion. 

like soldiers, we've a counter-sign 

That all must give who pass the line ; 

A whispered word, a harmless grip, 

That proves the right to fellowship. 

This constitutes our " secret " dread 

O'er which you sigh, and shake your head. 



ioo Drops of Water. 

Now, this objection done away, 

I reach the next. You, madam, say 

You'd join us, but for this one fact, — 

" 'Twould throw you in such close contact 

With — well, with people quite below you ; 

And those you'd rather should not know you." 

Madam, the way that leads to God, 

Slaves' feet, as well as kings', have trod, 

And Christ, who walked beside the sea, 

Said to the fis/ier " Follow Me." 

And forth they went, to preach God's word — 

The humble fisher and our Lord. 

And are you better, then, than he ? 

Will you refuse to bend the knee 

In church because across the aisle 

Kneels one whose bonnet's out of style, 

One who is ignorant and low, 
And one you do not care to know ? 
Refuse to battle for the right 
Because so many plebeians fight ? 



Objections to Good Templars Order Replied to. 101 

Or to labour for a soul's salvation 
With those beneath your social station ? 
Then what will you carry in your hand 
When at the Master's face you stand ? 

When humble souls lay golden sheaves, 
Must you say, " Lord, I bring but leaves ? " 
No treasure's bought without a price, 
No gain without a sacrifice. 
Where'er we go, or near, or far, 
We find some things that fret and jar. 
Madam, no more in this conviction. 
Now, sir, I pass to your objection. 

You say we've a glorious end in view : 
You think our cause is just and true ; 
You think our aim a noble one, 
" But there's too much sparking going on." 
You think there's a deal of that done here, 
From the way our boys and girls appear ; 
And you say it should not be, because 
We dedicate our hall to a cause ! 



102 Drops of Water. 

A holy cause, and it is not right 

To do love-making there each night. 

Does my Christian friend remember still 

An old brown church upon the hill ? 

And how, each Sunday, his feet strayed thither 

In spite of water, wind, or weather ? 

How he sat through a sermon, long and dry, 

With a beating heart and glowing eye, 

Because he could see, in the choir above, 
A gentle face he had grown to love ? 
Does my friend remember when she glanced down 
How the red blood stained his cheek of brown ? 
Has he forgotten the doorway, where 
He lingered till she came down the stair ? 
How he walked by her side with little thought 
Whether the sermon was fine or not, 

And learned the sweetest lesson of youth 
As he listen'd to God's great word of truth ? 
So, if at lodge, Jane looks at Hal 
Over the top of her ritual • 



Good Templars' Song. 103 

If John clasps Jessie's finger tips 

With something beside Good Templar grips \ 

Or Tom, to the guard at the inner door, 

Should whisper the password — and something more. 

Why, where is the harm ? Methinks a wife 

Might prove as true to a man through life 

If courted in church, or in our hall, 

As if he won her at rout or ball. 

Away with objections ! Come, my friend, 

And work with us to the glorious end. 

Now is the time ! there is work to be done, 

And westward, westward sinks the sun. 

The Master calls, as the day grows dim — 

Oh, where are the sheaves you should carry him ? 



GOOD TEMPLARS' SONG. 

AIR " OH, SUSANNAH ! " 

YE soldiers in the temperance cause, 
Our work is but begun. 
Oh ! sit not down in idleness 
And think the field is won. 



104 Drops of Water. 

Our lambs are straying from the fold, 
The wolves are on the track : 

Oh ! can you sit and see them go, 
Nor strive to bring them back ? 

Chorus : O Good Templars ! 

There's work for us to-day ; 
Then gird your armour on again, 
And only pause to pray. 

Whichever way the eye may turn, 

It sees the rum-shop stand 
With open door and flowing bowl, 

A viper in the land. 
The grapes are hanging from the vines, 

All ready for the press ; 
Before, behind, on every side 

Are seeds of drunkenness. 

Our foes are all untiring, 
But God is with the right, 

And we will conquer at the last — 
Then onward to the fight ! 



// io 5 



Aye, onward to the battle-field, 
Each woman, child, and man ! 

King Alcohol shall yet go down 
With all his demon clan. 



IF. 

IF wine was banished from the earth, 
How much of sorrow would be slain ! 
How much of misery and pain, 
If wine was nowhere on the earth ! 

If rum was driven from the land, 
How many tears would be unshed ! 
What bitter words would be unsaid, 

If rum was nowhere in the land ! 

If in this weary world of ours 

Foul whisky drinks were not distilled, 
How many graves would be unfilled 

In this strange, weary world of ours ? 



106 Drops of Water. 

If ale was nowhere to be found, 
How much of sin would never be ! 
How much of woe and misery, 

If ale was nowhere to be found ! 

Were all the liquor rivers dried, 
This earth would be an Eden land, 
With peace and joy on every hand, 

Were all the liquor rivers dried. 

O heaven ! speed the blessed day, 

And send a mighty, scorching drouth, 
And dry these streams from north to south. 

O heaven ! speed the blessed day ! 



BREAKERS. 

WHEN you launch your bark for sailing 
On the sea of life, O youth ! 
Clothe your heart and soul and spirit 
In the blessed garb of Truth. 



Breakers. 107 



Guard your every word and action : 

Never do and never say 
Aught you cannot meet with pleasure 

On the mighty judgment day. 

You will meet with rocks and breakers- 
Cards and wine the most to fear • 

Do not pause nor linger by them, 
For the devil lurketh near. 

Cards and wine, the two great breakers 
That have wrecked so many souls — 

Wrecked and shattered, lost to heaven, 
At the table — in the bowls. 

O young man ! life is before you, 
Shun the road that leads to death ; 

God will guide you if you ask Him : 
" Seek Me— here lam!" He saith. 

Turn to Him in all temptations, 
He will help and He will save ; 

When you feel your courage failing, 
He will make you strong and brave. 



io3 Drops of Water. 

DON'T TEASE THE LION. 

IF you saw a lion 
Not within a cage, 
Would you tease and fret him 

Till he roared in rage ? 
Would you tempt his anger 

And his savage power, 
Knowing he could crush you, 
Kill you, and devour ? 

Yet I know some people 

Who, morn and noon and night, 
Tease and fret with bitters 

The lion — appetite. 
It matters not what ails them, 

For each disease and all 
They seem to think there's healing 

In demon Alcohol. 

So they fret the lion, 
And anger him, until, 

In his awful power, 
He springs up to kill. 



"Give us a Call." 109 

Let me warn you, children, 

From this foolish way; 
Do not tease the lion, 

Nor tempt him any day. 

Don't believe the doctors 

If they say you need 
Any wines or ciders ; 

For there are, indeed, 
Better cures, and safer, 

Than these drinks, that slay 
More than a hundred people 

Without fail each day. 



"GIVE US A CALL!" 

[Suggested by seeing these words in a saloon advertisement.] 

GIVE us a call ! We keep good beer, 
Wine, and brandy, and whisky here ; 
Our doors are open to boys and men, 
And even to women, now and then. 



no Drops of Water. 

We lighten their purses, we taint their breaths, 
We swell up the column of awful deaths ; 

All kinds of crimes 

We sell for dimes * 
In our sugared poisons, so sweet to taste ! 
If you've money, position, or name to waste, 

Give us a call ! 

Give us a call ! In a pint of our gin 
We sell more wickedness, shame, and sin 
Tli an a score of clergymen, preaching all day 
From dawn till darkness, could preach away ; 
And in our beer (though it may take longer 
To get a man drunk than drinks that are stronger) 
We sell out poverty, sorrow, and woe — 
Who wants to purchase ? Our prices are low. 
Give us a call ! 

Give us a call ! We'll dull your brains, 
We'll give you headaches and racking pains, 
We'll make you old while you yet are young, 
To lies and slander we'll train your tongue, 

* A dime is an American coin worth about 2%d. English money. 



" Give us a Call!' 1 1 1 

Well make you a shirk 

Of all useful work, 
Make theft and forgery seem fair play, 
And murder a pastime sure to pay. 

Give us a call ! 

Give us a call ! We are cunning and wise, 
We're bound to succeed ; for we advertise 
In the family papers ! the journals that claim 
To be pure in morals and fair of fame. 
Husbands, brothers, and sons will read 
Our kind invitation, and some will heed 

And give us a call ! 

We pay for all 
The space in the paper we occupy, — 
And there's little in this life that money won't buy. 

If you would go down in the world, and not up, 
If you would be slain by the snake in the cup, 

Or lose your soul 

In the flowing bowl, — 

If you covet shame 

And a blasted name, 

Give us a call ! 



112 Drops of Water. 

DROP IN. 

[Written after reading the notice of the opening of a new and splendid Beer Hall.] 

DROP in ! our doors will be open, 
Invitingly, all through the day, 
And after the shadows have fallen 

The gas light will show you the way. 
You doubtless have noticed our sign-post — 

A model, they say, of its kind, 
And everything else in accordance 

Within our apartments you'll find. 
Drop in, on your way to the office, 

Ye business man, portly and grey ; 
Forget for a moment that matter 

Which must be disposed of to-day. 
Come, look through our splendid apartments, 

And try our delectable drink, 
Be sure you have tested its merits, 

And then let us know what you think. 
This " testing " will give you a headache, 

Your brain will be clogged with the beer, 
And that business matter of import, 

Somehow, will be not at all clear. 



Drop in. 113 

You'll blunder, maybe, in your figures, 

And throw a few thousands away, 
No matter — it's what you contribute 

In honour of Opening Day ! 
Drop in ! 

Drop in as you come up from dinner, 

Young labourer, manly and strong ; 
We are proud of our splendid apartments, 

Look in as you're passing along. 
We will give you a taste of our " nectar," 

That will bring you again on the morrow ; 
We will sow the first seed in the furrow, 

That shall grow to a harvest of sorrow. 
To-day you are steady and honest, 

And you hoard what you earn with a view 
Of settling down in the autumn, 

With somebody "tender and true;" 
But we'll waken a thirst that has slumbered, 

It shall use up the earnings of years, 
While the hopes and the dreams of a lifetime 

Go down in an ocean of tears. 

I 



H4 Drops of Water. 

Home, happiness, honour and money, 
Are all that we ask you to pay — 

Are all that we wish you to give us 
In honour of Opening Day ! 
Drop in ! 



Drop in as you come from the market, 

Young countryman, give us a call ; 
That money just placed in your pocket 

We know very well is your all : 
'Twas earned by the sweat of the forehead — 

Now spend it in pleasure and ease. 
Just enter our palace of splendours, 

There is everything here that will please. 
Bad habits are formed in an hour ; 

The lesson of vice is soon learned ; 
Once find the path pleasant and easy, 

And well have the money youVe earned. 
You meant it to pay off the mortgage, 

And free the farm wholly from debt, 
And give the old people a homestead, 

With less of work, worry, and fret. 



Drop in. 115 

Find happiness once in our presence, 

Think this an agreeable resort, 
And the payments that now are made promptly 

Will soon become tardy, and short ; 
The debts will increase, and the homestead 

At last will be taken away, 
And the old folks left helpless and homeless — 

But then, this is Opening Day ! 
Drop in ! 

Drop in as you're passing, young husband ! 

The woman who stands at the gate, 
Impatient to give you a greeting — 

Don't think about her — she can wait. 
No matter about the warm supper, 

That smokes in the oven, for you, 
All ready to put on the table, 

Set with silver and china for two. 
Drop into our palace a moment, 

And taste of this liquor and that, 
And we'll send you home late in the evening 

With a very large brick in your hat. 



n6 Drops of Water. 

The sweet little wife will be sobbing, 

Alone with her terror and grief, 
And your staggering step in the entry 

Will not give her joy or relief. 
A supper that's spoiled in the oven, 

A cloud, over-hanging and grey, 
A heart that is wounded and bleeding — 

Your tributes to Opening Day ! 
Drop in ! 

Drop in, from the highway and hedges, 

Irrespective of station or wealth ; 
We will lay aside social distinctions, 

And drink " to your very good health." 
Like the well-to-do, plethoric spider, 

Who put on no airs with the fly, 
Albeit his palace was princely, 

His station exalted and high ; 
We, too, are inclined to be cordial 

To poor little insects that roam ; 
Like him we would show you our parlours, 

And have you feel wholly at home. 



Is it Best? 117 



Tis the birth-place of sin and of sorrow, 
Here good names are bartered away 

For those of the loafer and drunkard, 
And this is our Opening Day ! 
Drop in ! 



IS IT BEST? 

O MOTHER who sips sweetened liquors ! 
Look down at the child on your breast ; 
Think, think of the rough path before him, 

And ask yourself then, " Is it best ? 
Shall I foster a love for this poison, 

Instil the thirst into his veins ? 
In the fountain he seeks at my bosom 

Sow the rank seeds of death, grief, and pains ? 

" Shall I give him the thirst of the drunkard, 
Bequeath him the weapons of crime ? 

Can we look for a glass of pure water 
Dipped up from a fountain of slime ? 



n8 Drops of Water, 

Can we look for brave men, strong and noble, 
Where the parents drink poison for food ? 

When the body and soul are corrupted, 
Can we look for the works to be good ? " 

Oh ! think of the future before him ! 

There are perils you cannot remove ; 
Yet this, the great highway of sorrow — 

Oh ! guard him from this with your love. 
There are rough paths enough in the future 

For the feet of the child on your breast ; 
And lower the glass you are lifting, 

And ask yourself, then, " Is it best ? " 



NEW YEAR. 

THE New Year dawns again upon the earth, 
And all our land re-echoes with its mirth. 
From east to west, from north to south, we hear 
The sounds of merriment and goodly cheer — 
With feast and revelry, with dance and song, 
The golden hours slip happily along, 



New Year. ng 

And eyes are bright, and hearts are blithe and gay, 
And all seems well upon this New Year Day. 

Alas ! alas ! all is not well ; for, oh ! 
White hands will plant the seeds of sin and woe — 
Fair maids, with smiles and glances half divine, 
Will lift the muddy glass of poison wine 
To manly lips, and plead of them to quaff, 
And loud will grow the careless jest and laugh ; 
And firm resolves, that gird up manly hearts 
To brave the devil and withstand his arts, 
Will fail before these fiends in form so sweet, 
And they will drain the glass and think it meet. 

O shame, too deep for tongue or pen to tell ! 
That woman opens wide the door of hell 
For man to enter — woman, who should be 
As true as truth and pure as purity. 

But when they pass the drunkard in the street, 
They lift their robes, lest they shall touch his feet, 
And turn from him with scornful eye and lip, 
Forgetting that perchance some maiden bade him sip — 



120 Drops of Water. 

Bade him with thrilling glance and tender tone, 
Until the deadly habit, mighty grown, 
Had mastered all his manhood, and he fell 
Lower and lower to the depths of hell. 

Go shout aloud fair woman's shame, O wind ! 
Tell it to nature, and to all mankind. 
To hill and vale, and every forest tree, 
To bird and beast, and to the mighty sea ; 
And let them all unite and sing her shame, 
Until, with streaming eyes and cheeks aflame, 
She makes a vow, and calls on God to hear, 
That evermore her record shall be clear, 
And she, with all her strength, will strive to save, 
Instead of aiding to the drunkard's grave. 



WORK FOR WOMAN. 

WOMAN, sitting at your ease, 
In the midst of luxuries, 
Bound by chains of selfishness, 
With no aim but " how to dress," 



Work for Woman. 121 

Does the thought ne'er come to you 
Of the thing that you could do ? 

Could, and yet do not, 
To crush out the liquor trade, 
That is making, and has made, 
Sin and shame, and woe and tears 
In our land, for years and years — 

Have you never thought ? 



You will chat for hours and hours 
Over ribbons, silks, and flowers, 
But you will not talk or think 
Of this growing evil — drink. 
You will weep and smile and laugh 
Over trashy books of chaff, 

But you will not read 
Any truthful temperance tale. 
" They are all so dry and stale — 
Just the same old thing," you say, 
As you yawn, and turn away 

From the truths you need. 



122 Drops of Water. 

You have time for rout, and ball, 

Concert, theatre, and all 

Lectures, save on this one theme. 

" Oh ! these temperance lectures seem 

So extremely dull," you cry, 

With a listless air and eye. 

O my friend ! forsake 
That absorbing theme of dress, 
Drop for once your selfishness, 
Think of all there is to do ! 
See the work that waits for you ! 

Up ! arouse ! awake ! 

There are men for you to save 
From the wretched drunkard's grave. 
There are feet that strayed away 
Into paths of sin one day. 
You can bring them, if you will, 
To the paths upon the hill. 

There's enough to do ! 
There's much to do and little done, 
Women, sisters, every one, 



There s Work to be Done, 123 

Lend a helping hand, not shirk 
Any part of God's great work. 

Come ! we've need of you ! 



THERE'S WORK TO BE DONE. 

5r J A IS the song of the morning, 

-*■ The words of the sun, 
As he swings o'er the mountains : 

" There's work to be done : 
I must wake up the sleepers, 

And banish the night ; 
I must paint up the heavens, 

Tuck the stars out of sight ; 

" Dry the dew on the meadows, 

Put warmth in the air, 
Chase the fog from the lowlands, 

Stay gloom everywhere. 
No pausing, no resting, 

There's work to be done. 
It is upward and onward, 

Still on," says the sun. 



124 Drops of Water. 

Tis the song of our soldiers 

Who bravely march on : 
" There are souls to be gathered, 

There's work to be done : 
We must wake up the sleepers, 

And teach them to think ; 
We must paint in full horrors 

The breakers of drink; 

" Dry the tears of the mourners, 

Put the cups out of sight, 
And, Eastward and Westward, 

Proclaim, ' There is light/ 
'Tis the Marseillaise of Progress- 

There's work to be done," 
The song of our soldiers, 

The song of the sun. 



The Lodge Room. 125 

THE LODGfrROOM. 

DON'T bring into the lodge-room 
Anger, and spite, and pride. 
Drop at the gate of the temple 

The strife of the world outside. 
Forget all your cares and trials, 

Forget every selfish sorrow, 
And remember the cause you meet for, 
And haste ye the glad to-morrow. 

Drop at the gate of the temple 

Envy, and spite, and gloom. 
Don't bring personal quarrels 

And discord into the room. 
Forget the slights of a sister, 

Forget the wrongs of a brother, 
And remember the new commandment, 

That ye all love one another. 

Bring your heart into the lodge-room, 

But leave yourself outside, 
That is, your personal feelings, 

Ambition, vanity, pride. 



126 Drops of Water. 

Centre each thought and power 

On the cause for which you assemble, 

Fetter the demon liquor, 

And make ye the traffic tremble. 

Ay ! to fetter and to chain him, 

And cast him under our feet, 
This is the end we aim at, 

The object for which we meet. 
Then don't bring into the lodge-room, 

Envy, or strife, or pride, 
Or aught that will mar our union, 

But leave them all outside. 



THEORY AND PRACTICE. 

THE man of God stands, on the Sabbath-day, 
Warning the sinners from the broad highway 
That leads to death. He rolls his pious eye, 
And tells how wily demons hidden lie 
To spring upon the thoughtless souls who pass 
Along. He lifts his hands, and cries, " Alas ! 



Theory and Practice. 127 

That such things be ! O sinners ! pause ; 

Gird on God's armour ; let the devil see 
Thou hast espoused a high and holy cause, 

And all his arts are powerless on thee." 
'Tis thus the man of God in warning cries, 
And tears of heart-felt sorrow fill his eyes ; 
And then he doffs his surplice and his gown, 
And calls for wine to wash his sorrow down. 

Ah ! follower of the meek and lowly One, 

And is it thus that thou would'st have men shun 

The road to death ? Is this the better way, 

Of which thou tellest on the Sabbath-day ? 

This wine you sip to quench your pious thirst, 

Of all the devil's arts, he reckons first. 

And countless legions go down to the dead, 

Slain, soul and body, by the demon red. 

Is this the holy principle you teach ? 

Or shall men practise, while you only preach ? 

The righteous churchman reads a tale of strife, 
One of those countless tragedies of city life ; 
He sighs, and shakes his head, and sighs again, 
And thanks his God he's not as other men. 



128 Drops of Water. 

And then he sips his glass of ale or rum, 

And wonders if the time shall ever come 

When such things cease to be. I answer, " When 

You who bear the names of Christian men 

Shall with your wines, and ales, and beers dispense, 

And choose the motto, ' Total Abstinence.' " 

The politician sighs at the nation's debt, 

And groans at his heavy tax. And yet 

He calls his jolly friends from near and far, 

And does not sigh or groan before the bar, 

But " treats " them with a free and lavish hand, 

Thus swelling the liquor tax upon the land. 

And so the world goes ; and will always go 

As long as fools live. And their lives are long, 

As all may see who look around, and so 

I'll let it waggle on, and cease my song, 

Hoping 'gainst hope, that some poor struggling ray 

Of common sense may find its weary way 

Into the stupid hearts and brains of those 

Who prate of any evil this world knows, 

And sip their wines and beer, and say to men, 

"We only drink a little — now and then." 



National Anniversary Ode. 129 

NATIONAL ANNIVERSARY ODE. 

HO ! for the day in the whole year the brightest ! 
Long may it live in the heart of the nation ! 
Long may it be ere the names are forgotten 

That boldly were signed to the grand Declaration ! 
Shout, sons of liberty ! shout for the one land free 

Under the sun ! 
On this thrice blessed day its bonds were struck away, 
Its thongs undone ! 

Ho ! for our banner, the emblem of freedom ! 

What can arouse a true hero's devotion — 
What like the Stars and Stripes, floating above us ? 
Queen of all lands, and the peer of the ocean. 
Oh ! it is fair to see, oh ! it is dear to me, 

Flag of the brave ! 
Time's wheel shall cease to move, true hearts shall cease 
to love, 
Ere it cease to wave. 

But there's a blemish now staining our banner ! 

The bright stars are dimmed, and the fair stripes 
are spotted, 

K 



130 Drops of Water. 

With the tears of the drunkard's wife, mother, and 

children, 
With hot tears of shame is our flag blurred and blotted. 
Victims of tyranny, strike till our land is free 

From King Alcohol : 
Strike down his whelps of sin, rum, brandy, beer, and gin — 
Strangle them all. 

Up to the contest, and wipe out this blemish ! 

Columbia's son, and Columbia's daughter, 
God speed the day when the one " Land of Freedom " 
Shall add to its title the " Land of Cold Water !" 
Three cheers for Columbia, and this, her natal day ! 

God bless the right, 
And guard from a traitor's hand this our beloved land, 
And the Red, Blue, and White ! 

July 4th, 1871. 



Where are the Temperance People ? 131 



WHERE ARE THE TEMPERANCE PEOPLE ? 

IN REPLY TO A QUERY. 

WHERE are the temperance people ? 
Well, scattered here and there : 
Some gathering in their produce 

To show at the autumn fair ■ 
Some threshing wheat for market, 

And others threshing rye, 
That will go to the fat distiller 
For whisky by-and-by. 

And some are selling their hop crops 

At a first-rate price, this year, 
And the seller pockets the money, 

While the drunkard swallows the beer. 
And some "staunch temperance workers "(?) 

Who'd do anything for the cause, 
Save to give it a dime or a moment, 

Or work for temperance laws, 



132 Drops of Water. 

May be seen from now to election, 

Near any tavern stand 
Where liquor flows in plenty, 

With a voter on either hand; 
And these temperance office-seekers 

That we hear of far and near 
Are the ones who furnish the money 

That buys the lager-beer. 

But these are only the black sheep 

Who want the temperance name 
Without living up to the precepts, 

And so bring themselves to shame. 
And the true brave temperance people, 

Who have the cause at heart, 
Are doing the work that's nearest, 

Each his allotted part : 

Some lifting the fallen drunkard, 
Some preaching unto men, 

Some aiding the cause with money, 
And others with the pen. 



Where are the Temperance People ? 133 

Each has a different mission, 

Each works in a different way, 
But their works shall melt together 

In one grand result, some day. 

And one, our Chief (God bless him), 

Is working day and night : 
With his sword of burning eloquence 

He is fighting the noble fight. 

Whether in lodge or convention, 

Whether at home or abroad, , 

He is reaping a golden harvest 
To lay at the feet of God. 

Where are the temperance people ? 

All scattered here and there, 
Sowing the seeds of righteous deeds, 

That the harvest may be fair. 



134 Drops of Water. 



THE CRY OF THE PEOPLE. 

FIRE ! Fire ! Fire ! the cry rang out on the night air, 
The roving winds caught it up, and the very 
heavens resounded. 
Louder and louder still, by voices grown hoarse with 

terror, 
The cry went up and out and a nation stood still to listen. 



"Come, for the love of God, and help us to fight the 
demon ! 

Come and help us to chain the fiend that is making us 
homeless : 

His hot and scorching breath has melted our hard- 
earned fortunes, 

And, not contented with this, he is snatching our loved 
ones from us. 

The air is thick with the stream that pours in clouds 
from his nostrils : 

Come, for the love of God, and help us to fetter or slay 
him." 



The Cry of the People. 1 35 

The ear of the Nation heard, the heart of the Nation re- 
sponded : 

The smith left anvil and forge, and hastened to render 
assistance ; 

The clergyman went from the pulpit, the lawyer went 
from his office, 

The houses of trade were closed, and the Nation was in 
commotion. 

For the hungry tongue of Fire was lapping the skirts 
of the city, 

The royal Queen of the West, and her people were cry- 
ing in anguish. 

Nobly and well they worked, till they chained and fet- 
tered the demon, 
Bound him hand and foot, and hindered his work of 

destruction. 
Over the land on wires, over the mighty cable, 
Flashed the terrible truth : " Ruin and destitution 
Reigns where but yesterday there was lavish wealth 
and plenty." 



136 Drops of Water. 

And up from the South came aid, and aid came down 

from the Northland, 
And it came from East and West, wholesome food for 

the hungry, 
Shelter for houseless heads, and clothes to cover the 

naked. 

Hark ! there's a sound abroad, like the cry of a suffer- 
ing people, 

Loud and louder it swells, and echoes from ocean to 
ocean, 

The raving winds catch it up, and from throats that are 
hoarse with crying 

The wail goes up and out, but is answered only by 
echoes. 

" Come, for the love of God, and help us to fetter the 

demon 
That is taking the bread from our mouths and the 

mouths of our helpless children ; 
He is walking abroad in the land, and all things perish 

before him : 



\ 



The Cry of the People. 137 

Homesteads crumble away, and fortunes vanish like 

snow wreaths ; 
And, not contented with this, he is slaying our best and 

our fairest, 
Stealing the brains of the wise, and bringing the young 

to the gallows ; 
He is making the home forlorn, and crowding the jails 

and the prisons, 
He moves the hand of the thief — he drives the assassin's 

dagger." 

The ear of the Nation is deaf, the heart of the Nation is 
hardened : 

The smith at his anvil and forge sings in the midst of 
his labour; 

The clergyman stands in his pulpit, and prays for the 
soul of the sinner, 

But says no word of the fiend who wrecked and ruined 
the mortal ; 

The lawyer smokes his cigar or sips his glass of Bur- 
gundy ; 

The merchant, day after day, thinks only of buying and 
selling. 



138 Drops of Water. 

And up and down through the land, night and day, 
walks the demon, 

Poverty, sorrow, and shame follow the print of his foot- 
steps. 

The cry of the people goes up, a cry of anguish and 
pleading, 

But only a few respond, a few too feeble to chain him. 

The multitude stands aloof, or aids the fiend of destruc- 
tion, 

While he tramples under his hoofs hundreds and thou- 
sands of victims — 

And the multitude's ear is deaf to the wail of the beg- 
gared orphans. 

Shame, oh ! shame to the Nation that leaves the demon 

of Traffic 
Free to roam through the land, and pillage and rob the 

helpless. 
Shame to the multitude that will not render assistance, 
But leaves a few to do what many can only accomplish. 

Arouse ! ye listless hosts ! and answer the suffering people ! 
Spring to the aid of the million, as ye sprang to the aid 
of the thousand : 



If I were Sent. 1 39 

As you fettered the demon Fire, fetter the demon 

Traffic, 
Who slays by tens of thousands, where the other slew 

only hundreds. 



IF I WERE SENT. 

IF I were sent to represent 
A portion of a nation, 
I would not chat on this and that 

In the halls of legislation. 
To show my power, I'd waste no hour 

In aimless talk and bother, 
Nor fritter away a precious day 
On this, and that, and the other ; 

Whether the food a dog consumes 
Wouldn't make a porker fatter :* 

And about a thousand aimless things 
Of no import or matter ; 



140 Drops of Water, 

Whether each day a man should pray' 1 ' 

For our welfare or shouldn't 
Now, I do not say men do this way, 

I merely say / wouldn't ! 

No ! were I sent to represent 

A State, or town, or county, 
I'd do some good, and all I could 

To earn the people's bounty. 
Instead of a dog or a fattening hog, 

I'd talk about men's drinking, 
And with words of fire I would inspire 

The stolid and unthinking. 

And the time that I might idly waste 

(I didn't say men do waste it) 
I'd spend in pleading for my cause ; 

And with tongue and pen I'd haste it 
Through all the land, till a mighty band, 

With laws and legislation, 
Should cleanse the stain, and cut the chain 

That binds our helpless nation. 

* A certain legislative body spent hours in discussing such trivial matters. 



If I were Sen L 141 

And little need would there be then, 

When that bright sun had risen, 
Of asylum wings or building sites, 

Of county or State prison. 
The need is made by the liquor trade ! 

O ye wise, sage law-makers ! 
J Tis the fiend you smile upon that makes 

Our madmen and law-breakers. 

" Two-thirds " — so reads our State Report — 

Are made insane through liquor. 
And so I say, I'd spend no day 

In idle talk or bicker, 
If I were sent to represent 

A portion of a nation ; 
But I'd plead for laws, until my cause 

Was won through legislation. 



142 Drops of Water. 



GODS WORK. 

TO J. J. H., OF KENTUCKY. 

GATHERING brands from the burning, 
Plucking them out of the fire, 
Lifting the sheep that have wandered, 

Out of the dust and the mire. 
Bringing home sheaves from the harvest 

To lay at the Master's feet — 
Lord ! all Thy hosts of angels 
Must smile on a life so sweet. 

Speaking with fear of no man, 

Speaking with love for all, 
Warning the young and thoughtless 

From the wild beast — "Alcohol." 
Showing the snares that the tempter 

Weaveth on every hand. 
Lord ! all thy dear, dear angels 

Must smile on a life so grand. 



God's Work. 143 

Fighting the bloodless battle 

With a heart that is true and bold ; 
Fighting it not for glory, 

Fighting it not for gold, 
But out of love for his neighbour, 

And out of the love for his Lord. 
And I know that the hand of the angels 

Will crown him with his reward. 

For whoso works for the Master, 

And whoso fights his fight, 
The angels crown with a star-wreath, 

And it glows with gems most bright. 
They wear them for ever and ever, 

The saints in that land of bliss, 
And I know that heaven's best jewel 

Is kept for a soul like this. 



144 Drops of Water. 

THE BREWER'S DOG. 

r I ^HE brewer's dog is abroad, boys, 

-^ Be careful where you stray, 
His teeth are coated with poison, 

And he's on the watch for prey. 
The brewery is his kennel, 

But he lurks on every hand, 
And he seeks for easy victims 

The children of the land. 

His eyes gleam through the windows 

Of the gay saloon at night, 
And in many a first-class " drug-store" 

He his hiding out of sight. 
Be careful where you enter, 

And, if you smell his breath, 
Flee as you would from a viper, 

For its fumes are the fumes of death. 

boys ! would you kill the bloodhound ? 
Would you slay the snarling whelp ? 

1 know that you can do it 

If every one will help. 



Thanksgiving. 145 



You must make a solemn promise 

To drink no ale or beer, 
And soon the feeble death-wail 

Of the brewer's dog we'll hear. 

For, if all keep the promise, 

You can starve him out, I know ; 

But, if boys and men keep drinking, 
The dog will thrive and grow. 



THANKSGIVING. 

[Written after the passage of the Temperance Law in Wisconsin, 1872.] 

THANK God for men ! I hear the shout 
From East and West go up and out. 
Thank God for men whose hearts are true ; 
For men who boldly dare and do ; 
For men who are not bought and sold, 
Who value honour more than gold ; 
For men large-hearted, noble-minded ; 
For men whose visions are not blinded 

L 



146 Drops of Water. 

With selfish aims — men who will fight 
With tongue or sword for what is right ; 
For men whom threats can never cower • 
For men who dare to use their power 
To shield the right and punish wrong, 
E'en though his hosts are bold and strong, 
For men who work with hearts and hands 
For what the public good demands. 
Bless God ! the thankful people say, 
Such men have not all passed away. 

Bless God enough are left at least 

To put a muzzle on the beast 

That walks our land from breadth to length 

And robs the strong man of his strength ; 

Takes bread from babes, steals wise men's brains, 

And leaves them bound in helpless chains ; 

Makes sin and sorrow, shame and woe, 

Wherever his cloven feet may go. 

This is the mission of the beast 

Whose bloated keepers sit and feast 

On seasoned dainties, that were bought 

With blood, and tears, and God knows what — 



Thanksgiving. 1 47 

Keepers who laugh when women cry, 
Who smile when children starve and die, 
If so they gain one farthing more 
To add to their ill-gotten store. 
From South and North, from West and East, 
The people clamoured, " Chain the beast ! 
Fetter the monster Alcohol 
Before he robs us of our all." 

Thank God the earnest cry was heard, 

And hearts of noble men were stirred. 

And though a weak-kneed host went down 

Before the keeper's threatening frown, 

Enough were left, a bold, brave few, 

Strong-brained, broad-souled men who were true — ■ 

Men who were men, and did not fear 

The villain's threat or coward's sneer ; 

Enough to muzzle with the law 

The foulest beast the world ever saw. 

Thank God ! thank God ! the people say, 

True men have not all passed away. 



148 Drops of Water. 

IN THE CUP. 

THERE is grief in the cup ! 
I saw a proud mother set wine on the board ; 
The eyes of her son sparkled bright as she poured 
The ruddy stream into the glass in his hand. 
The cup was of silver ; the lady was grand 
In her satins and laces ; her proud heart was glad 
In the love of her fair, noble son ; but, oh ! sad, 
Oh ! so sad ere a year had passed by, 
And the soft light had gone from her beautiful eye. 
For the boy that she loved, with a love strong as death, 
In the chill hours of morn, with a drunkard's foul 

breath 
And a drunkard's fierce oath, reeled and staggered his way 
To his home, a dark blot on the face of the day. 

There is shame in the cup ! 

The tempter said, " Drink," and a fair maiden quaffed 
Till her cheeks glowed the hue of the dangerous draught. 
The voice of the tempter spoke low in her ear 
Words that once would have started the quick, angry 
tear, 



Greeting Poem. 149 

But wine blunts the conscience, and wine dulls the 

brain, 
She listened and smiled, and he whispered again. 
He lifted the goblet : " Once more," he said, " drink," 
And the soul of the maiden was lost in the brink. 

There is death in the cup ! 

A man in God's image, strong, noble, and grand, 
With talents that crowned him a prince of the land, 
Sipped the ruddy red wine ! sipped it lightly at first, 
Until from its chains broke the demon of thirst. 
And thirst became master, and man became slave, 
And he ended his life in the drunkard's poor grave. 
Wealth, fame, talents, beauty, and life swallowed up, 
Grief, shame, death, destruction, are all in the cup. 

GREETING POEM. 

[Read at the Reception of Delegates of R.W.G. Lodge I.O.G.T., 
Madison, May 28, 1872.] 

THERE was a sound in the wind to-day, 
Like a joyous cymbal ringing ! 
And the leaves of the trees talked with the breeze, 
And they altogether were singing, 



150 Drops of Water. 

For they knew that an army, both bold and strong, 

A brave, brave army, was coming, 
Not with the fife and sounds of strife, 

With martial music and drumming, 
Not with stern faces and gleaming swords, 

That would make blood to flow like water, 
While brother and brother should slay each other 

On wholesale fields of slaughter ; 
But rather like rills from a thousand hills, 

That ripple through valley and heather, 
On, on to the sea, with a song of glee, 

Till they meet and mingle together. 

They come from the South, and the East, and the West, 

The bravest and best in the nation. 
They come at no idle and aimless quest, 

But to work for a world's salvation. 
From the Scot's fair land and from England's strand, 

O'er the mountain and heather and ocean, 
They come ; and the foe by their coming shall know 

The strength of a Templar's devotion. 



Greeting Poem. 151 

On the earnest brows, in the thoughtful eyes, 

We read the unchanging story — 
They fight in their might for the truth and the right, 

And not for vain name or glory. 

O grandest of armies ! O bravest of bands ! 

We give you a cordial greeting, 
And the blood of our warm hearts beats in the hands 

That are offered to you in meeting. 
The heart of a Templar is never cold, 

Nor stands it aloof from a brother, 
And his hand is steady, and always ready 

To clasp the hand of another. 
In God's great Book, where but angels look, 

On pages of spotless beauty 
Are written in letters of living light 

A Templar's vow and his duty. 
" For ever and ever/' the promise reads, 

For ever and ever 'twas given. 
And who keeps or breaks the pledge that he takes 

Must meet the record in heaven. 

Our order is noble and grand and strong, 
And is gathering strength each hour, 



15^ Drops of Water. 

And the good of the earth proclaim its worth, 

While the foe turns pale at its power. 
And we of the State that men call great, 

The nation's brave " Badger " daughter, 
Step by step as we go, are defeating the foe, 

While we add to the hosts of cold water. 

With the chief at our head whom the foe may well dread, 

The Sherman or Grant of our battles, 
By day and by night we fight the good fight, 

Though never a cannon rattles. 
For the tongue and the pen are the swords of our men, 

And prayer keeps them whetted and polished ; 
They will let God's light in on the foe's licensed sin, 

Till the traffic of death is abolished. 

With cunning hands we fashioned the strands 

Of a stout restraining tether, 
To fasten the beast, for a season at least, 

And our statesmen tied it together. 
The beast strains the rope with the idle hope 

Of making it weaker or longer, 
But the Templars to-day are working away 

To make it shorter and stronger. 



Greeting Poem. 153 

We give you greeting — we need your aid ! 

There is work for many a morrow, 
There are beautiful souls going down in the bowls, 

There are homes that are burdened with sorrow, 
There are mourning captives all over the earth, 

Hugging the fetters that bind them. 
We must show them the light, we must set them aright, 

We must work for them all as we find them. 

With a soaring " Faith," that is stronger than death, 

We must work while the day hangs o'er us. 
We are brave and strong, and our battle-song 

Has " Hope " for the ringing chorus. 
With " Charity " broad as the mercy of God, 

We must lift up the fallen neighbour, 
And the Lord's dear band, in the angel land, 

Will smile on our blessed labour. 

Welcome, brave warriors in God's holy cause ! 

The hearts in our bosoms are beating 
As one heart to-night, filled with pride and delight — 

Welcome, thrice welcome, our greeting, 

M 



154 Drops of Water. 

And though soon between will lie long miles of green, 

Though oceans divide us for ever, 
The ties which now bind heart with heart, mind with 

mind, 
The hand of death only can sever. 




Birmingham : 
White <5r» Pike, Moor Street Printing Works. 



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Recently Published, croion Svo, 300 pages, handsomely bound in cloth. 
2/8postfree. THE FIRST "TEARE" PRIZE ESSAY, ENTITLED, 2/6 post free. 

BACCHUS DETHRONED. 

By Frederick Powell. 

With Memoir and Extracts from the Speeches of the late James Teare 
by Dr. F. R. Lees. 

The First Prize, there being seventeen competitors, was awarded 
to this work by the adjudicators ; viz., Professor Kirk, of Edinburgh ; 
Dr. Henry Munroe, of Hull ; and the Rev. C. Garrett, of Manchester. 

The essay treats of the curse of intemperance and its remedy in a 
most interesting and exhaustive manner, as indicated by the following 
table of 

CONTENTS. 

I. The Great National Curse. 
II. The Supposed Dietetic Value of Alcoholic Beverages. 
Five Objections Answered. 

III. The Physiological Relations of Intoxicating Liquors. 

IV. The Social and Political Argument. 

V. The Manufacture of Intoxicating Liquor an Immorality. 
VI. Teetotalism a Scientific Truth. 
VII. Teetotalism in Relation to the Bible. 
VIII. God's Great Remedy for the World's Great Curse. 
IX. Legislation and the Liquor Traffic 
APPENDIX. Speeches by the late James Teare. 

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" An exhaustive and well-arranged selection of facts and published evidence in 
condemnation of the drink traffic and of drinking.'' — Leeds Mercury. 

"A very temperately written prize essay on the subject of temperance." — 
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" It is prefaced by a beautifully-written historical memoir of James Teare, 
wherein is detailed the valuable work done in the early advocacy of the Temper- 
ance Reformation. . . . Its get-up in print and binding is first-class, and fits 
it for the choicest drawing-room table ; while, in our judgment, it is a volume 
which parents should see it their duty to have for common reading in their 
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Price 3d. per dozen (1/6 per 100, 12/- per 1000, /or circulation) ; and in 6d. 
Assorted Packets. Reduced Terms on quantities to Booksellers, Societies, Lodges, 
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JUmpster 's pictorial |IUafjinxj0. 

Illustrating — by Pictures, Anecdotes, and Arguments — the Social, Religious, 
Scientific, and Political Phases of the Temperance Reformation. 

In soliciting ord3rs for these Readings, the Publishers can confidently recom- 
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entire Temperance press. 

LIST OF TZBZIE ZRIEJ^DIZtsTGr-S. 

SOCIAL SERIES. 

No. 1. " Alice Lee ; or, the Lips that touch Liquor shall never touch mine." 

,, 2. " The Curse of Britain. " A prize poem. 

,, 3. " What's the Good of it? " A racily- written story. 

,, 4. " Alic Rodgers, the Blacksmith; or, a Highland Cure for Drinking." 

,, 5. " How Boniface Overshot his Mark." A popular sketch. 

,,6. " Going for Father's Beer ; or, Great Weeds from Little Seeds." 

,, 7. " Lost !" The narrative of a woman's life. 

,, 8. " Licensed to Sell ; or, ' Water is Good Enough for Thee.' " 

,, 9. " The Drunkard's Sign Post ; or, a Quiet Chat about Noses." 

,,10. " Juvenile Temples ; or, Train up a Child in the Way he should Go " 

RELIGIOUS SERIES. 

„ 26. "The Force of Example." An appeal to the Clergy, Sunday School 

Teachers, and Christian people generally. 
„ 27. " Sacramental Wine. " The desirability of using unfermented wine at the 

Lord's table. 
,, 23. " Beelzebub and the Parson." A humorous, argumentative Ballad. 
,,29. '* Timely Words to Thoughtful Women " on the claims of Total Abstinence. 
,,30. " The Brewer's Prayer, and the Interpretation thereof." 
„ 31. " The Minister's Story ; or, Why I Signed the Pledge." 
,, 32. " The Minister's Glass." An outline of the Temperance argument. 
,, 34. " Strange Fire." The evil of wine-drinking in the vestry. 

SCIENTIFIC SERIES. 

,, 51. ' I feel so much better after my wine." An exposure of this popular 

fallacy. 
,, 5-2. " A Mare's Nest." Dr. Binz's Learned Words Simplified. 
,, 53. u Heat, Cold, Labour, and Hardship, without Alcohol." 
,,54. " * Wine,' why a Mocker ; or, willingly ' Subject io Vanity.' " 
„ 55. "According to Law ; a Dialogue between two Young Men." 

POLITICAL SERIES. 

,, 76. " Which is the Free Man? or, Two Horns of a Dilemma." An argument 

for Permissive Prohibition. 
,, 77. " Honesty the Best Policy ; or, a Few Words to Electors.'' 
,, 78. " Our New M.P. ; or, How we didn't do our Duty." 
,, 79. " The Two Public Houses." A Dialogue. 
„ 80. *' How about the Revenue ? " A Dialogue. 

*** The series of Readings above enumerated, with additions, may be had in 
a beautiful volume, with ornamental cloth binding, and gilt edges, admirably 
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London : John Kempster & Co. 



Just Published, crown Svo, 544 pages, in elegant cloth binding, gilt lettered, 3/6 
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CHOICE READINGS 

IN 

ENGLISH LITERATURE; 

Edited by William Pollard. 

This work is a selection from the writings and speeches of ' ' The 
Grand Old Masters" of the English Language, and from the best 
writers of modern times ; chosen with care that the sentiments should 
uphold true morality and the requirements of Christian truth. 

A more suitable present for intelligent readers, or one more designed 
to advance literary taste and moral culture, especially with the young, 
can hardly be produced. 

It is handsomely bound, and includes descriptive, narrative, histori- 
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and high-toned yet clear composition. For parlour tables, literary 
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* * I at once ordered twenty-four copies and presented them to the 
Teachers of the School with which I am connected. My opinion is 
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of a copy. It may be read again and again with profit to themselves, 
and so influence them in their teaching, that those taught must be 
benefited thereby." 

CONTENTS. 

PART FIRST. THE DOWNWARD COURSE. 

Chapter I. — Introductory. 

Chapter II. Plate I. — The Natural or Unregenerate Heart 
represented by evil passions, indicated by wlld 
and Unclean Animals. 

Chapter- III. Plate II. — The False Professor. 

Chapter IY. Plate III. — The Evil Passions Free and Unre- 
strained, ACCOMPANIED BY THEIR ATTENDANT EVIL 

Spirits. 
Chapter V. Plate IY. — The Result : Remorse, Despair, Suicide, 
and Perdition. 
PART SECOND. THE UPWARD COURSE. 

Wherein we see the Believer triumphing over the World, the Flesh, and the Devil. 

Chapter YI. Plate Y. — The Eye Opened by Light from above. 
Chapter YII. Plate YI. — Salvation Realised. 
Chapter YIII. Plate YII. — Taking up the Cross. 
Chapter IX. Plate YIII. — The Armour. 

London: John Kempster & Co. 



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London: John Kempster & Co. 



I 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




